


Love with a bite - Loki fanfiction

by ilse_writes



Series: Loki & Ylva alternate universe stories [6]
Category: Loki - Fandom
Genre: But he is the coolest nerd there ever was, F/M, Loki is a vampire nerd who loves to read, Minor references to True Blood (the books), Thor is the vampire king, Vampires, Vampires from Asgard, Vampires in New York, Ylva works at the coffee shop, fangbangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 10:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17765066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: Vampires are a part of society, albeit a part that most people try to avoid. Of course, there are also people who love nothing more than the thrill of getting up close and personal with a vamp. Ylva is neither of those people, though what happens after she takes a seat next to the raven-haired vampire is something she had never expected.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This is another spin-off from my book 'Coffee & Books', but you can easily read it without having read that one. Loki and Ylva don't have powers in this story and in this alternate universe Loki is a vampire. So are all the other Asgardians too, by the way. :-D

Loki has been trying to ignore the sounds that are coming from the room next to his for almost half an hour now, yet he can't ignore it any longer. The annoying tingle of bells pulls him out of his book every time it reaches him through the walls. He tosses his book on the divan and draws himself up to his full height, arms stretched out to the high ceiling of his room.

A soft glow of light comes from the edges of the room, the source of the light concealed in the ceiling. The whole apartment is decorated by an interior designer with a love for the futuristic. Steel, glass and white surfaces alternate each other throughout the penthouse that takes up the top two floors of one of the most expensive apartment buildings in New York City. The only colour comes from the contemporary paintings and blown up photographs on the walls, almost all with blood red as their central theme.  
To Loki it's all a little impersonal and too modern, yet it's what Thor and his posse seem to prefer. Thor always says a king needs to keep up appearances, or maybe that's Lady Sif talking. Loki doesn't see how a pristine white apartment shows the status of a  _vampire_  king, but he has always been a little more old-school than his adoptive brother. Thor has really taken the characteristics of being a vampire into the next century, digging himself in deep in the nightlife of the infamous city that never sleeps. He's the uncrowned king of the night, respected and revered by both vampires and humans on this side of the planet.

Loki is not a permanent inhabitant of the Manhattan apartment, though he has made this room his during the years. The Victorian furniture in his room clashes with the sleek lines of its architecture, though it's a good clash; it makes the boldly carved furniture stand out even more. In the center of the room is the large four-poster bed with its moss green canopy. The dark green and creamy whites fabrics that upholster his furniture are an esthetically pleasing match to the dark wood with its intricate carvings.

The plush carpet is soft against his bare feet and Loki almost reluctantly slips into a pair of loafers that is standing next to the door before he leaves his room and goes to the room next to his. The door is opened to a crack and the sounds that annoyed him before are even louder now. He can also hear the low hum of rhythmic chanting, the vibrations of it filling the room. Loki pushes the door open, letting it slam against the opposite wall on purpose. The hum dies out, the ring of a single bell alone in the room.

Hogun is sitting cross-legged in the center of his room, on a low platform made of carved wood. Besides a four-poster bed with heavy canopies, a low chair and an antique Chinese cabinet the room is empty. The vampire warrior is wearing nothing more than a simple cloth around his loins, barely covering the necessities.   
"What do you want, Loki?" he asks with closed eyes, his voice monotone and revealing nothing of his emotions about Loki's sudden entrance.

"For you to cut it out with those annoying bells. Christmas on Midgard is bad enough already, you don't have to stretch it out into january." Loki rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, the silk of his dressing robe soft against his skin.

Hogun opens one eye, not moving from his cross-legged meditation position. "Are you comparing my meditation chimes to jingle bells?"

"Your words, not mine," the prince shrugs. "Call 'm what you want, as long as I can't hear 'm." He turns back to leave the room, flicking his finger against the gong next to the door, knowing full well it will annoy Hogun if he touches his things. With another subtle move of his hand he closes the door behind him, slamming it in the frame.

Loki doesn't feel like reading anymore, he's much too agitated for that; Hogun may use those bells for meditation, on Loki they have a complete opposite effect. Maybe a hot cup of tea will calm him down a little. The sound of his loafers is soft against the smooth wooden floors of the apartment and a little louder on the stairwell of reinforced glass and stainless steel that takes him to the top floor of the penthouse. The bedrooms and the gym with sauna are downstairs, upstairs is a large living area, an almost equally big kitchen and an office.

In the living room he finds most of the other occupants of the penthouse, entertaining themselves the way they prefer best. The rotund Volstagg is in the adjoining kitchen; the fact that he doesn't need regular food to survive not standing in the way of his urge to stuff his face every chance he gets. He does make an outstanding cook, getting even Loki to the table on a regular basis. Volstagg is preparing a luscious breakfast, breakfast rolls ready on the table and the smell of bacon and eggs filling the kitchen. Outside, the lights of the city illuminate the start of a wintery evening, yet inside the apartment daily life has just started; the Asgardian vampires don't need much sleep because of their age, yet out of habit they sleep most of the day anyway.

Thor and Lady Sif are lounging on one of the large sofas; the vampire king and his wife are watching a news channel to start their night informed. Thor warmly wishes Loki a good evening when he sees him, though Sif merely glances at him. Loki has never been on good terms with his brother's wife, she and Hogun have always kept their distance from him, either from sheer aloofness or out of distrust. His brother's trusted friend Volstagg keeps a more open attitude around the dark prince, presumably out of a 'the more the merrier' principle that the rotund vampire seems to apply to his social life. The last occupant - who has not shown his face yet -, Fandral, has a similar outlook on life; although he applies his 'the more the merrier' rule mainly in the bedroom.

While Loki waits for the kettle to start whistling, he takes a bottle of synthetic blood from the fridge. The microwave heats it up within seconds and Loki flips the bottle a couple of times before opening, to distribute the heat evenly throughout the syrupy liquid. 'A bottle a day keeps true death away', it says in small print on the bottom of the label; an attempt to wittiness from the manufacturer. Ever since the invention of synthetic blood it has become easier to live in the human society, although the sense of danger and death will always cling to the vampires. 'And that's how it's supposed to be,' Loki thinks to himself. Blood straight from the living source will always be superior to its synthetic counterpart, even though the fabricated product comes with a considerable less amount of hassle than the real deal. The human governments have put restrictions on feeding from humans; the regulations differ from country to country, although they all have in common that the rules become stricter every year. Here in the States feeding from humans is illegal - for both vampires and the humans they are drinking from - without a legally binding contract that states that both parties consent to the act and are both free of any transmittable diseases. Getting the contract is almost the same as getting married, which is why most vampires resort to drinking synthetic blood; with some illegitimate feeding on the side of course. Loki is no stranger to that either; if the human is attractive and willing - maybe after some persuasion -, he is not one to say no to a little snack.

From the looks of it, Fandral has brought his snack home last night. The blonde vampire walks into the living room, his chest bare above blue silk pajama pants, followed by a young male in what seem to be his clothes from last night. Loki silently finished his bottle of synthetic blood, following his fellow vampire and the human with narrowed eyes. The young man is ill at ease in the presence of five vampires, the gravity of his situation only just dawning on him. It's a handsome guy, although the attractiveness of his features are greatly diminished by the chalky white colour of his skin and his quivering bottom lip. There are two small puncture holes visible in his neck; Fandral has been careless. The human looks like he is two seconds away from wetting his pants; somebody ought to do something about it. Not Loki though, he busies himself with making tea and takes a seat at the large glass table with his steaming mug.

"Would you like some bacon and eggs?" The deep rumbling voice of Volstagg startles the human, making him jump back. His eyes grow big at the sight of the large vampire with a frying pan and a spatula in his hand.

"N..no," he finally stammers. "I don't... I don't eat breakfast. Dinner. Breakfast." The young man stumbles over his words, glancing jittery to the clock above the fridge and back to the bearded vampire.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! You should eat something. Here, have this!" Volstagg makes a plate with the eggs and bacon from his frying pan and pushes it over the counter in the direction of the young man. While the human stares incomprehensibly at the food, too dazed by his situation, Volstagg throws a pointed look to Fandral. The playboy vampire rolls his eyes, probably already a bit bored by his plaything from last night, but he steps up anyway.

"Here, have this instead." Fandral gives the male the mug of coffee he had just made for himself, slipping an arm around his waist loosely. He pulls him close to whisper something in his ear and some colour returns to the man's cheeks. They whisper some more and Fandral takes the man with him, back to his bedroom or out the front door. Loki doesn't care. The plate of breakfast isn't wasted either; Thor comes in to scoop it up from the counter.

"Did Fandral bring another human home with him?" the vampire king asks, sitting down at the table next to Loki.

The dark prince shrugs. "Are you keeping count? Because I stopped counting years ago."

Thor frowns, chewing his food thoughtfully. He takes a couple of bites before he speaks up again. "Losing Jean-Luc has hit him hard, in a way I guess he's still grieving."

"He's been grieving for over four decades now," Loki throws back. "And he has a funny way of grieving; he fucks everything with a hole in it."

"Now now," Volstagg interjects good-heartedly. "Our friend still has standards. His dates are always pretty and healthy."

"And stupid," Loki adds, taking another sip of his tea. "Either they don't ask enough questions or Fandral conveniently forgets to tell them where he is taking them. Wouldn't be the first time he had to mop up urine because his date had bad bladder control at the sight of a house full of vampires."

Thor chuckles loudly, quickly chewing his food to be able to say something. "If I remember correctly  _you_  were the one who scared that girl beyond wits, with your impression of Vlad Tepes."

Volstagg's deep belly laugh fills the kitchen. "I must admit, that was a pretty canny impression of The Impaler. Poor girl fainted at the spot."

Loki smiles at the memory. The university who had invited him as a guest teacher at the time was doing a seminar on historical figures who have inspired Hollywood, so of course the fifteenth century ruler of Romania made it into his lecture. He had arranged for some movie props to take to his lecture and scaring the girl was simply an opportunity he could not pass up on.

The vampires are soon joined again by Fandral, his date gone; apparently he had chosen the option of the front door instead of his bedroom. Hogun shows up too, dressed in the Mongolian styled clothing he prefers these days. The men talk a little about their plans for this evening. For Thor, Hogun and Fandral the plan is the same as every friday night: Thor's club will open at nine and they will be there the entire night to keep an eye on things. When they expect important guests, the others will join them too, but this is just a regular night.

"Want to come with us?" Thor asks Loki, looking at him expectantly. His adoptive brother likes sharing his life with Loki, he's always inviting him to join him, though Loki often declines.

"I've got other plans," he answers evasively.

"Visiting the ballet? A gallery opening?" Fandral smirks at him from the other side of the table, his feet propped up on a chair next to him. "What elite kind of entertainment will it be tonight?"

"A book signing," Loki says curtly, trying to ignore Fandral's teasing.

"Loki standing in line to get an autograph, what a sight that must be." Lady Sif's cool voice cuts through the casual atmosphere in the kitchen. She walks up to Thor, sliding a hand down his chest as she comes to stand behind her.

Her husband envelops her wrist with his large hand, gently tugging it to placate her. "I'm sure it will be a nice addition to your collection, Loki," he says to his brother, knowing that the dark prince collects first editions of his favourite authors and has them signed if he has the chance.

"It will be. And I am looking forward to hear the author read from his work; he hardly ever appears in public." Loki decides to ignore the female vampire's attempts to irk him. He is really looking forward to tonight; the British novelist I.M. Georges is one of his all time favourite authors.


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice the POV changes every chapter, it alternates between Loki and Ylva. It's not indicated, though it should be clear by the story itself.

 

Bopping her head to the beats of Michael Jackson's 'Billy Jean' Ylva Frederikson mops the floors of the coffee shop, routinely moving the mop around the table legs. Her colleague and best friend Thomas cleans the coffee machine, singing along to the song. While cleaning the floors, Ylva is thinking about what clothes are in her closet and which are in the laundry basket, mentally putting together an outfit to wear to the book signing that will start in about an hour. She will have to hurry to get there on time and Ylva doesn't want to go out in her work clothes. Her worn out copy of 'The backstreets of London' by I.M. Georges is lying ready on her nightstand; getting an autograph isn't something she usually cares about, but this is her all time favourite author. His books take up almost a whole shelf in her book cabinet, he is the only author that has more than two titles on her shelves.

Ylva is up for a disappointment when she knocks the door that connects the apartment of her and her cousin Lisa to that of her aunt and uncle next door. "Come in!" sounds aunt Yvonne's voice from inside.

"Hello, dear," she says when Ylva enters the apartment. Yvonne is doing the dishes, bright pink gloves covering her hands.

Ylva presses a kiss to her aunt's cheek, immediately grabbing a dish towel and a dripping plate from the rack. "Is uncle Lars ready yet?"

"Oh, honey, haven't you read his text? He is in bed with a terrible migraine. Poor man couldn't even see straight anymore." Yvonne puts another plate in the dish rack, looking at Ylva from the side.

The young woman puts the plate in the cabinet and pulls her phone from her shoulder bag. The home screen doesn't show any new messages, though when she logs in there is a red dot with the number one visible on her message app. "Shit, I missed it." Ylva picks up another plate and starts drying it. "I'll have to go by myself then. Too bad uncle Lars is sick."

"Will you be okay by yourself, dear?" Yvonne asks a little worried. The Jamaican woman is always looking out for her niece like she's her own daughter.

Ylva puts the last plate away and hangs the dish towel over the wide handle of one of the drawers. "I'll be fine, Yvonne," she says with a chuckle. "It's a book signing, not a rave!"

After a check of her watch she says goodbye to her aunt. "I hope Lars will feel better soon. It's a shame he can't come tonight."

"You can tell him all about it tomorrow. Have fun, dear!" Yvonne waves her niece off with the pink gloves.

The book signing is in a large bookstore on the other side of Manhattan, just across Central Park, so Ylva takes the train. Ever since she came to New York to work in her aunt's coffee shop she loves riding the subway. Yeah, it's often crowded or smelly, but to her there is nothing that says 'big city' more. That, and Central Park of course. Though a walk through the park on a cold january night is maybe not the smartest idea for a girl alone.

By the time Ylva arrives at the bookstore the event is almost starting. She immediately recognises her favourite author, his graying hair disheveled and his clothes a bit outdated. He is a bit of a shut-in and rarely comes to events like this; that is why Ylva was so happy when she saw the announcement online. This may be her only chance to ever hear her favourite author speak in real life.   
Mr. Georges is talking to a woman in a pantsuit, both standing on a small stage in the front of the store. Facing the stage are at least fifteen rows of folding chairs and by the looks of it they are all taken. "I should have grabbed a train earlier," Ylva sighs under her breath. "Or two..."

She walks along the rows, searching for an empty spot. There are a bunch of people standing on the sides, yet after a whole day of serving people in the coffee shop the idea of sitting down is quite inviting. Ylva has nearly given up on the alluring idea of the slight discomforts of a foldable chair, when she spots an empty chair in the last row. It's the second to last chair and even though there are plenty of people who are standing in the back, nobody has taken that chair. The closer Ylva gets to the vacant seat, the more she notices that people seem to be avoiding the spot. She pauses at the end of the row, looking down the filled seats. Next to the vacant seat is a middle aged woman sitting, her back turned to the empty chair even though she isn't talking to the woman sitting on her other side. The woman isn't the only one who seems to be ignoring the far corner of the rows of chairs. Now Ylva is watching a bit longer she sees how everyone looks at anything but the empty chair. Or more precise: anything but the man in the black suit who is sitting in the chair at the end of the row.

Her first thought is about his good looks. The man has high cheekbones, a high forehead and a straight nose, giving his face a somewhat aristocratic beauty. His face is framed by slightly wavy, long black hair, tucked back behind his ears. The sense of pride and intellectual style is heightened by his serious expression and his immaculate choice of clothing. Even when he sits down Ylva can see  _he_  wears that pitch black bespoke suit, not the other way around. He is interesting, to say the least. Ylva feels strangely attracted to him and it is not just because she thinks he is very handsome. There is  _something_  about him.

He must have felt her staring, because suddenly he is looking right at her; his eyes lighter than you would have expected when he has such dark hair. His irises are a light shade of green with a darker ring around them. If Ylva were the type she would have gulped and flashed beet red. Now only the tips of her ears turn pink, combined with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She suddenly knows what that something about him is; the man is a  _vampire_.

It is hard to say what it exactly is that tells her he is a creature of the night. It's probably just an accumulation of hints, like the paleness of his skin, his piercing gaze or merely the fact that nobody dares to sit next to him.

For what can't be more than two seconds Ylva feels frozen under his gaze. The seconds stretch out like time is made of rubber, stretching until the strain is tangible in the air. The vampire averts his eyes back to the front of the bookstore and time snaps back to its original shape.

Maybe she should feel scared. Maybe she should give up on finding an empty seat and just keep standing for a little while longer. But she didn't recognise anger or danger in his look; it was just a blank stare, maybe with a hint of curiosity or interest. She was staring at him, he looked back; like anyone would do who notices they're being stared at.

Ylva takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. In favour of her feet, which would like to stop supporting her weight after a long week of serving tables, she resolutely walks to the far end of the row. She has to excuse herself a couple of times to the people who are standing in the back and they give her wary looks when they notice where she is heading. If aunt Yvonne were here she would most certainly stop her niece; although vampires are a part of modern society and have became more and more visible during the years, they are still considered dangerous or at least untrustworthy. The older generations are the most guarded about the vampires, to the youth the vampires are a forbidden fruit; you know you probably shouldn't, but you want to get a taste anyway.

The young woman isn't naive; she knows a vampire can be dangerous. Yet the risk of getting killed by a vampire is considerably lower than being the victim of a mugging gone wrong or getting run over by a car. Still, Ylva pauses her step when she is within touching distance of the vampire. She mentally scolds herself for it. What is he gonna do? Sink his fangs in her neck and suck her dry in the middle of a crowded bookstore?

Ylva has reached the far corner of the row of chairs and she is standing next to the vampire's chair. His suit clings to his torso just enough to reveal the well-toned body that's underneath it. The vampire looks lithe and athletic, although he is a bit on the lean side. She coughs lightly to make her presence known, even though he is probably already aware that she is standing next to him. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

His eyes reveal surprise when he looks up at her, although it vanishes as soon as Ylva spots it. "No, it's free," the vampire says, his voice calm and pleasantly deep.

The moment Ylva wants to step in to pass him, the man in the dark suit gets up from his chair, unfolding himself to his full height. Ylva almost bumps in to him, craning her neck a little to look him in the face. He has several inches on her; the top of her head reaching maybe to his nose at most. Standing so close to him is less intimidating than Ylva would have expected. The man smells nice too, reminding her a little of a forest in the winter. His smile is suave and he angles his body so she can pass freely to the empty chair, reminding Ylva of what she came here for.

She sits down with an audible sigh, rotating her tired feet in the air for a moment before setting them down on the floor. The vampire gives her an amused glance as he sits down next to her, though he says nothing and focuses his attention back on the stage.   
Ylva takes her book out of her bag before she stashes it underneath her chair. It's a bit hot in the bookstore, especially with all these people here, and she shimmies out of her winter coat. Her elbow bumps against her neighbour's arm and she quickly excuses herself.

"That's okay, Miss," he answers softly, leaning a little to the side to give her room to hang her coat from the back of her chair. His own coat is on the back of his chair, as black as the rest of his outfit. The only thing that has a different colour is the black and white houndstooth scarf that peeps from one of his sleeves.

"Thank you," Ylva replies, as she settles back in her seat. He gives her a small closed mouthed smile, like any polite stranger would do. She finds herself wondering why nobody came to sit here; other than the fact that he is a blood sucking vampire, he seems to be a perfect gentleman. She would prefer sitting next to him over the people she is sometimes forced to share a bench with on the subway any time!

Her eye falls on the book he has on his lap, mostly covered by his large hands. He has slender hands, with long, elegant fingers. "Your edition looks a lot better than mine," she says, holding her own tattered copy of 'The backstreets of London' up.

The vampire seems surprised she sparks up a conversation with him, she can see it from the amused glimmer in his eyes. "Your favourite?" he asks, nudging his chin to the book in her hands.

"It is. I know most people love his books about the old royal families of England better, but... I don't know. This one always felt the most real to me," Ylva says, wondering for a short moment if it's really smart to make small talk with a vampire. She quickly presses that thought back down; she is just making polite conversation with someone who shares an interest with her, that is all. His race - is that what it is called? Or is it species? He is still human, even though vampires don't really function as regular humans - doesn't matter. "I think I've read it at least fifteen times," she adds quickly to cover up for her inner monologue.

"I can see that," the vampire chuckles lightly. "It is starting to look a little worse for wear."

"I know," Ylva says wistfully, stroking the back of the book with her hand. "Taking it with me everywhere I go has left its marks."

"They're marks of love," the man replies in his deep voice.

Ylva smiles fondly. "I had not thought of it like that, that is actually a lovely way of looking at it!" She points to the book in his lap. "Does that mean that yours isn't loved that much?"

"Oh, no, to the contrary," the vampire says, chuckling again. His laugh is a deep rumble in his chest. Suddenly, he leans over to Ylva confidentially. "I will let you in on a secret..."

Involuntary Ylva holds her breath. The secret of a vampire; what on Earth could that be? Is it a good or a bad sign that he wants to entrust her with a secret just minutes after meeting her for the first time? What if he is trying to lure her in? What if...

"... I have  _two_  copies," the vampire whispers secretively. "The one I have at home looks a bit more like yours; this one here is a first edition that I've only read once."

When she lets her breath go with a giggle, Ylva is laughing more at her own raving imagination than at his whispered mock secret. The man in black laughs with her in silence, shaking his head a little.

Their merriment quickly dies down when the woman in the pantsuit steps up to the microphone to welcome everyone to the event. She introduces the author and Ylva's attention is soon wrapped up by the words of man on stage instead of the vampire next to her.


	3. Chapter III

Loki finds a seat in the back of the bookstore, a spot from where he can oversee everything while keeping out of the way. He is used to the way most people give him a wide berth, he actually likes to use it to his advantage: loving how intimidating he can be without trying. Loki keeps to himself mostly, although he doesn't avoid large crowds. He is a lone island in the sea, the currents flowing around him.

The seats fill up quickly, yet the one next to him stays empty. Loki wouldn't really mind if someone came to sit there, yet he is happy to see it empty too. Being around people can be a bit of an ordeal sometimes, with their lack of hygiene or irritating sounds. The man two rows in front of him for instance, reeks of old sweat. And at the other end of the last row is a woman who has the annoying habit of sucking her teeth. Centuries of practice have learned Loki how to shut out this type of external stimuli, otherwise he would have gone completely mental ever since coming to Midgard. Human blood tastes the sweetest, but you have to put up with a lot of downsides of the human race if you want to live among them. Still, Loki prefers Midgard over living on Asgard under Odin's ever watching eye.

When I.M. Georges comes on the stage, Loki watches him fondly. The author is in his seventies now, though his face hasn't aged that much since the last time Loki saw him, about thirty five years ago. His hair has gone completely white, yet he sports the same haircut as when he was younger, the hairs parted at the side. The vampire purchased the book in his lap from the author himself, who had just started to get recognition for his works. Loki wasn't familiar with his writing back then, he just happened to be in the bookstore that evening. He remembers how the Cambridge bookstore had set up a small table in the back with a wooden chair for the author to sit on, while he sold his books from cardboard boxes that were stacked next to the table. He had come a long way since those days; I.M. Georges is a household name in the world of literary fiction. Loki has followed his career ever since reading that first book. Being a recluse, the author rarely makes public appearances; coming overseas is an even rarer occasion for him. Loki was happy when he saw the notice of tonight's event in the paper, it would give him a chance to let I.M. Georges sign the book he bought from him all those years ago.

There is someone staring at him, he can feel it. It happens every now and then, the stares. It's usually one of two kinds of people: the ones who are afraid of him or the ones who find him more fascinating than is healthy for them. This young woman is a little different though, she is looking at him with innocent interest and when their eyes connect he can see the signs of that familiar shift in her mind; the sudden realisation that he is a vampire. Her pupils dilate and the tips of her ears go pink, but other than that she doesn't seem shocked.

She is a pretty little thing; all bundled up in her green winter coat, a black knitted scarf around her neck. The light freckles around her nose match her strawberry blond hair, pulled up in a loose bun at the back of her head. Loki guesses she is in her late twenties, her blue eyes bright from the cold outside. She doesn't seem the type to be a fangbanger - the slang used for people who want to have sex with a vampire for the thrill of it -, so she will probably fit among those who are afraid of vampires and the dangers that surround them. Loki directs his attention back to the stage in the front of the bookstore, it won't be long before the event starts.

The rubber soles of her boots don't make a sound on the wooden floors of the bookstore, yet Loki knows she is standing close behind him before she has even said anything. Her voice is a pleasant surprise though, a little lower than he would have expected. He gets up from his chair to let her pass and it's easy to see she is not used to that kind of chivalry; she nearly bumps into the vampire. The men of this age have really dropped the ball, if you asked him; the ladies have some lessons to learn as well.

From up close he can see the different hues that make up the blue of her eyes, surrounded by long lashes. There is no fear in her eyes, even though she is standing pretty close to him. It's a pleasant change for once. Her behaviour is amusing; even though she is within two feet of a vampire, she sits down like she is at home. She is completely at ease, taking of her coat while sitting down, bumping into his arm in the process. When she unwraps her scarf from her neck, Loki's eyes immediately latch on to the exposed skin there. The way she has angled her head to push her scarf inside her coat sleeve behind her gives him a good view of the muscles and veins that lie just beneath her soft, young skin. She smells sweet, like vanilla, probably from a body lotion or shower product she used that morning. There's also the aroma of coffee, not on her breath but on her hands. Her own natural smell is very nice too, the fresh earthy scent enhanced by the more synthetic vanilla tones and the whiff of coffee. Loki can feel his fangs press against the inside of his lower lip and he carefully pushes the thoughts about the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her blood and just the general taste of her to the back of his mind. She looks lovely and her smell is enticing, but this is not the time nor place to think about things like that.

To his surprise, the young woman starts making smalltalk. She really isn't that impressed with him being a vampire, yet she also doesn't seem to want something from him other than friendly conversation. If anything, she treats him like any other human being. It's a bit unsettling to Loki, yet in a nice way.   
They both brought the same book, no doubt both with the intention to get it signed afterwards. Her copy is well-loved, the edges of the book scratched and dented and the pages stained with unnamable smudges. It looks like it lives inside her bag on most days, instead of sitting on a shelf. That is also what she tells him, saying she takes it with her everywhere she goes. Her voice is pleasant to his ears and her warm demeanor makes it easy for him to fall into playful conversation. He can hear her heart falter for a moment when he leans over to whisper something to her, her earthy vanilla smell filling his nose. From her laugh he can hear she was thinking about a whole other 'secret' than what he just told her, meaning she isn't oblivious to him being a vampire. Still, she interacts with him like he couldn't drain her to the last drop if he wanted. Not that he would; it has been ages since he last showed such poor self control.

Their conversation may be stopped short when Mr. Georges is presented on stage, yet their interaction only pauses momentarily. At first, all her attention is directed at the white haired man on stage and it stays like that when he starts reading a section of the book that brought him fame; a work on the Tudors, brilliantly mixing history and fiction together like only I.M. Georges can. But then the author tells his audience he would like to read from another work, an older book that has not received as much love from the public as the ones that came after it. The young woman sits up straighter and sends Loki an excited look, before actually grabbing his arm and almost squealing when the author holds a copy of 'The backstreets of London' in the air.

She is as startled as Loki by her own action, only the dark prince is better at hiding his emotions. He doesn't know whether he should be angered or amused by her familiarity fuelled by her enthusiasm. He hates it when somebody touches him without permission, especially humans. Many fangbangers have experienced his wrath when alcohol or drugs clouded their minds and they dared coming too close. Yet with this cheerful girl his anger refuses to come out, leaving him in wonder about her nerve to grab a vampire by the arm. It's funny to think she might have temporarily forgotten who he is, or  _what_ he is.

The young woman has a similar war of emotions, fear and surprise flashing over her face; yet with her joy is the winner. She smirks and shrugs as if they have just shared something funny, before turning back to the stage to listen to I.M. Georges read from their favourite book. Loki observes her for a moment, seeing how her giddiness about what has just transpired between them is replaced by a look of pure joy as she listens to Mr. Georges' clear voice.

The author has chosen to read a part that Loki knows very well, although it is safe to say he knows the entire book like the back of his hand. 'The backstreets of London' is one of his favourite books because it captures the feel of those streets in the nineteenth century so well, those streets that were his home for almost two decades during that century. Living in London in that period of time was though, especially for the lower classes. Loki had turned himself away from his family out of resentment; turns out that you can't live on spite alone. It was a dark period, though also one of the most interesting ones. He befriended a local gang leader, a man much like one of the characters in Georges' book. The guy almost certainly knew Loki was a vampire, though they never spoke about it. Loki made sure to never feed on members of his friend's gang, picking out rival gang members instead. Eventually, the gang wars destroyed the gangs and Loki grew tired of the lack of comfort. He went to the French country, where Thor was living it up in a mansion surrounded by orchards. His adoptive brother welcomed him back with open arms, like he always did. Thor never held a grudge, so Loki did it for the both of them.

The young woman next to him is enraptured by the story. She is leaning forward in her chair, her hands tucked under her thighs. Upon her cheeks is a faint blush, bringing her enticing smell to Loki's attention again. However, his interest in her is not solely based on physical attraction; she shares his love for the book - although her motives are slightly different - and her open attitude towards him as a person is a fresh breeze of change. When she glances back at him, her lips turned up in a smile and her eyes sparkling with joy, Loki decides he would like to see more of her, to know more of her. 


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Ylva's POV again; you getting the hang of it already? ;-)  
> Also, Loki and Ylva may act a little 'out of character' in this story. Just roll with it, it'll all make sense in time.

 

Ylva had hoped for the author to read from her favourite book, yet when it happens she can hardly believe it. In her excitement she grabs the arm of the person closest to her, forgetting that it's not uncle Lars she came here with. A cold white flash of fear goes through her when she realises her mistake, what was she thinking?! Squeezing the biceps of a vampire she has just met, for all she knows he could snap her neck for that! She knows the stories of the fangbangers who got in over their head, even though the stories are usually pawned off as rumours. The absurdity of it, possibly getting killed in a bookstore by a vampire only because she grabbed his arm, unexpectedly makes her laugh. And when she sees a glimmer of amusement in the vampire's eyes, his eyebrows raised in some sort of cynical wonder, she really has to push her sudden glee down or she will have a fit of giggles. Ylva views up front again, where I.M. Georges is searching for the right page in the book. Soon, her nerves calm down and she loses herself in the words that she knows so well. To hear them spoken out loud by the man who wrote them is special to her, it's even more precious than she would have expected.

When the author is done reading from 'The backstreet of London', the lady of the bookstore announces it is time for some questions from the audience. Ylva sits back in her chair, watching the hands that are raised in the audience. She is one of the younger people here, most of the audience is at least forty years or older. She briefly wonders how old the vampire next to her is, he probably screws up the average age here majorly.

"Aren't you putting your hand up?" the man in black asks her quietly, leaning over to her for a moment.

Ylva chuckles. "Georges is practically a hermit, he doesn't like questions."

Her neighbour nods in consent. "He's bad at answering them too," he says, after the author has given yet another slightly confusing answer. "Someone should put him out of his misery."

His words make a grey-haired woman in front of them look back, her lips pursed in disapproval. Ylva presses her hand against her mouth to refrain from laughing, though when she glances at the vampire - who raises a challenging eyebrow at the woman in front of them - her attempt is in vain. Something about him makes her forget who he is,  _what_  he is; she is surprisingly at ease around the dark-haired man.

Luckily, question time is cut short after a few other ill-answered questions. I. M. Georges speaks better from behind his writing machine and Ylva is more than happy to overlook his inability to form coherent answers on the spot. It his writing what's important, and his work is amazing.

The first part of the evening is concluded with the author reading a few pages from his latest novel, one that has nineteenth century England as the subject again and also has a protagonist from the lower classes. The first two pages sound promising and Ylva is looking forward to dive into the book when she gets home. To be honest, she will probably start reading on the train already!   
The woman in the pantsuit announces a short break in which the audience can purchase the new book, to get it signed by the author after the break. Chairs are scraping against the floor as people get up from their seats and make their way to the cashier counter where a large pile of books is waiting to be taken home by their new owners.

Ylva folds her coat over her arm and the man next to her does the same; the black and white scarf hangs loosely over his shoulders. He gestures for her to walk in front, following close behind her. "I'm guessing you want a copy of the new book too?"

"Of course," Ylva says, looking back over her shoulder. "I have all his books, I'm almost obligated to buy every new one!"

The vampire chuckles. "Of course, it's like a gentleman's agreement now, - oh, wait." He reaches to the floor and picks up her scarf that slid from her coat sleeve.  
Ylva wants to take the scarf from him, but he holds it up in both hands to her. "Allow me," the vampire says and proceeds to hang the scarf around her neck, stepping in close to do so. Even though they only met this evening, the gesture isn't awkward or burdened with double intentions. In fact, Ylva finds it easy to chat with the dark-haired man and they are wrapped up in conversation until it's Ylva's turn to purchase I.M. Georges' newest book.

When Ylva waits for the vampire to pay for his book - secretly smiling about the fact that he has a credit card, although she doesn't know why she expected him  _not_  to have one -, she notices how some people are looking disapprovingly at the man in black. Most people don't spare him a second glance, maybe even on purpose, though some are clearly not happy with his presence here.

She catches the eyes of a couple, a man and woman in their fifties. They seem to be well off; the woman wearing a silk scarf around her neck and heavy rings on her fingers. Her husband wears a mocha-coloured turtleneck underneath his opened wool coat that's just a shade darker than his sweater. They are only a few feet away in the crowded store and Ylva is pretty sure the woman whispers 'dirty fangbanger' to her husband, giving the young woman a vile look. Her husband nods grimly, pointedly looking away from the girl. Ylva swallows heavily, the derogatory term hurting her more than she would like to admit.

"Ignore them," a deep voice says close to her ear. She feels the vampire standing right next to her, holding out his arm to invite her to turn around and go join the line for the book signing. To Ylva his arm in front of her feels like a protective shield and she is grateful for it.

"Why do people have to be so mean?" she sighs, clutching her coat and books to her chest. Calling names is childish and stupid and she shouldn't let it get to her. It won't get to her, in a minute she will forget all about the hateful couple.

"Bigotry can be found in every layer of society, in every century," the vampire says evenly, although she didn't really expect an answer from him.

"Seen a lot of it, haven't you?" Ylva looks up to the dark-haired man beside her.

"I have seen a lot. Period." The vampire smirks, making Ylva smile again too.

The line for signing moves slowly but steady. I.M. Georges has already shown that he isn't good at chit-chat, so people don't linger at his table.   
"To what name will he have to sign yours?" Ylva asks, realising she doesn't know the vampire's name. She knows he collects first editions of great literary works, who his favourite authors are and that he has bought his copy of 'Backstreets' from the writer personally, yet she doesn't know what to call him.

"Oh, you're right! I haven't even properly introduced myself!" The dark-haired vampire places his hand over his chest and inclines his head at her. "My name is Loki, my lady."

Ylva pulls her hand free from her coat and extends it to him. "Nice to meet you, Loki. I'm Ylva Frederikson."

Loki takes her fingers and brings them up for an airy kiss, his lips barely grazing her skin. "Enchanté, Little Wolf," he says with a wink, releasing her hand.

"French  _and_ Norwegian? I'm guessing you have traveled a lot?" Ylva tries to ignore the little flutter in her stomach she gets from his courteous gesture, relieved her voice is steady.

Loki shrugs lightly. "I had time..."

Ylva raises her eyebrows, realising the implications of that statement. Exactly how old is the man next to her? Does he measure his age in years or in centuries? She remembers the interview she has read a while back, with New York's so-called vampire king Thor Odinson. That vampire had skimmed around the question of his age, yet it was clear he was already around in early Medieval times. "Do I dare asking how old...?"

The vampire hums softly. "Does it matter?" He glances down at her with a slight smile, moving up when the line does.

Ylva thinks on that for a moment. "I guess not," she says eventually. Because really, what difference would it make to know whether he was 300 or 600 years old? Or even older; the concept is hard to grasp.

They easily fall back into casual conversation; Ylva noticing not for the first time that evening how easy it is to be comfortable around Loki. He may be a vampire and therefore a potential killer, yet that thought seems entirely foreign when Ylva is talking to him. Loki is intelligent, witty and kind without being soft.

They are so engrossed in conversation that they find themselves at the front of the line before Ylva notices. I.M. Georges gives her a kind smile and already holds out his hand for whatever book it is she wants him to sign. She hands him her tattered copy of 'The backstreets of London'. "It is my favourite," she adds.

"I can see that!" The author turns the book over in his hands. "Did it get passed down to you by someone?"

"Oh, no." Ylva laughs. "I'm afraid the wear and tear is all my doing."

Mr. Georges smiles and asks for her name. She spells it out for him, watching him write on the title page of her book. His autograph takes up the whole width of the page. Next, it's Loki's turn. "You take good care of your books," the author says to him. "This one still looks the same as 35 years ago."

"I could say the same about you, sir," the vampire replies and Ylva can just see the cogs turning in Georges' head.

Apparently the writer comes to the right conclusion, glancing from Loki to the book and back. "I think from the two of us  _you_  are the one who hasn't aged a day." The two men leave it at that and the author signs Loki's book with the same flourish autograph.

After some words of praise and thanks for the author, the vampire and the young woman walk away from the table, giving room to the next people in line. Ylva stuffs her books inside her bag, the two volumes fitting snugly. When she winds her scarf around her neck with one hand, Loki takes her coat from her other arm and holds it up for her. He easily slides it over her arms and shoulders, making Ylva realise the night is coming to an end; it's time to go home. Although she had a long week, with extra shifts to cover for her cousin Lisa, Ylva can't think of going home. Not yet.

After helping her, Loki busies himself with buttoning up his long black coat. They are standing in the middle of the path, so Ylva moves a little to the side to let people through. A middle aged woman in a purple padded jacket and with henna dyed hair does the same thing and the two women end up next to each other between two book cabinets. A whole group of people passes them and Ylva has to wait a bit before she can go back to Loki.

"You're not going home with the vampire, I hope?"

It takes Ylva a second to realise the woman is talking to her. "Excuse me?"

"His kind is dangerous. You need to be careful, my dear!" The woman has put her hand on Ylva's arm, pressing it patronizingly.

"I can take care of myself, madam," Ylva answers coolly, pulling her arm away. "Besides, he has been nothing but a gentleman."

"Yes, I'm sure he has been nice to you. You're a pretty girl." The woman scrunches up her nose. "It's all fun and games until the fangs come out! I bet he is eager to find out what you taste like!"

"Geez! What is wrong with people tonight?!" Ylva throws her hands up and stalks away from the nosy woman, making a beeline for the door.

Loki easily falls into step with her, looking behind them to see what caused the commotion. "Did something happen?"

He holds the door for Ylva and she doesn't stop walking until she is a few yards away from the store. She draws her hands over her face before she resolutely puts them in her pockets. "Never mind. People are stupid."

Loki watches her for a moment, his eyes only leaving her face when the door of the bookstore behind them opens again. A moment later the woman in the purple jacket walks past them, never looking back. Ylva squeezes her eyes shut for a second and opens them again to see Loki is still looking at her. Their breaths are visible in the cold air; it's quite the change from the warm bookstore. Here in the dark it is even more visible that Loki is a vampire, his eyes have some sort of glow to them that was invisible before. It's like looking at green cat eyes, yet without the feline slits. The fact that he is standing just outside the light from the lamp post makes him look a little ominous with his all black attire and his pale skin. It is a little easier to believe he wants to taste her blood now they are outside in the dark.

Loki's question startles Ylva from her sinister thoughts. "Would you like to go for a drink with me?" He gives her an almost sheepish smile, taking a step closer to her.

"A drink?" Ylva's mind is racing, jumping to all possible conclusions at once and settling for a dire one. "You want to drink my blood?!" She steps back in fear, her hands grabbing the collar of her coat like she could protect her throat somehow.

"Wow. No." Loki puts his hands up in apology. "I did  _not_  mean it like that!"

Ylva stares at him, her heart in her throat. She breathes shallowly, the impulse to run away clearly present in her muscles. Something makes her stay put though. Loki seems seriously put off by her sudden outburst, which makes her think she jumped to conclusions a little too quickly.

"I meant going for a drink, like, in the place over there." Loki waves his hand to a café across the street. "Did you really think..." He rolls his eyes and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he looks up again. "Look, I... I had a nice time tonight. I thought we could... make it last a little longer. I don't... I don't normally do this."

He looks so human right then, so out of control, that Ylva's fear evaporates like a drop of water in the desert. "I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to... you know. I would actually like that, to go for a drink with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear from you by the way! How are you liking this story so far?


	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a date with the vampire!

Loki helps Ylva in her coat, the garment smelling like her in all the good ways. The sliver of skin that is visible between her scarf and the wide collar of her dress when he shrugs the coat over her shoulders is inviting him to touch it; to run his fingers along her shoulders, her collarbones, her throat... He doesn't, though. He is having a wonderful time tonight and this mortal girl is the cause of that. It has been a long time since he last befriended a human, yet it is so easy with her. There is a part of him that longs to touch her, to taste her, to  _bite_  her, though he pushes it down everytime that part rears its head. He would like to see her again, to spend time with her and getting a taste of her blood will have to take a backseat to that. She is not a snack and he also doesn't want her to be just a fling; there are others who can fill those needs if necessary.

The bookstore is almost closing and everybody seems to want to get out at once, a throng of people pushing in between him and Ylva. Loki patiently buttons up his coat, waiting for Ylva to join him again. She is wedged in between two book cabinets, some woman with alarmingly red hair at her side. Loki only notices the woman is being pushy when he catches her last words, about him wanting to get a taste of the girl. Clearly, Ylva isn't having it and she immediately starts of in the direction of the exit.

Outside, the encounter with the red-haired woman still isn't sitting right with the girl with the fierce Norwegian name and it pains Loki to see her carefree mood from before is gone. For that alone he is of a mind to go after the foul-mouthed witch and teach her a lesson. But that would mean he had to leave Ylva and he doesn't want to do that yet; the night is still young. So, Loki does something he hasn't done in a long, long time: he asks the girl out.

Ylva's reaction is not what he had expected and he immediately prays he will run into the poisonous red-haired woman soon, so he can rip her to shreds for this. It hurts to see the fear in Ylva's eyes and the way she cowers away from him, especially because she didn't really seem to care about him being a vampire earlier.

Loki doesn't really know how to fix this, yet he desperately wants to. Her rejection and fear cut him more deeply than expected; he has just met the girl! Yet he hears himself embarrassingly fumble for words, explaining to the girl how he only wanted to enjoy her company a little longer.

Relief washes over him when the fear disappears from her eyes. They stand across from each other a little awkwardly before they both start to laugh at the same time. "I'm sorry," she says again, stifling a giggle. "That was stupid."

Loki politely offers her his arm to walk with him. "It's okay, I  _am_ a blood-sucking vampire after all."

Ylva links her hand in the crook of his elbow and falls into step with him on their way to the crosswalk. "Is that an indirect way of saying you  _do_ want to drink my blood?" Her tone is playful, yet he knows she wants a honest answer to that question.

The dark prince stops to wait for the go sign and turns a little to look at the young woman at his side. "There is a difference between wanting something and actually doing it. And I can promise you  _I_  will not do anything unless  _you_  want me to."

There are at least twenty people waiting to cross the street, yet it feels like they are completely alone; the world around them has faded away to nothing more than a blurred whisper. Her blue eyes hold him prisoner until she slowly nods her head. "Fair enough."

The girl and the vampire don't speak again until they have settled down in a small booth in the café, which turns out to be some sort of old-fashioned diner. Not old enough to be retro, not new enough to be hip. Loki doesn't care as long as the music isn't too loud and the coffee is decent. "Do vampires drink coffee?" Ylva asks with badly hidden surprise when Loki orders the drink.

"What? Did you think we only drank blood?"

"Well, duh!" she deadpans, making him laugh. "Don't you?" she adds more shyly after a couple of seconds.

"Do we need to have the vampire talk?" Loki raises an eyebrow, trying to assess how much she knows about his kind. Maybe less than he initially assumed, judging by the way the tips of her ears turn pink. "Okay, how about we play the twenty questions game? You can ask me all you want about vampires, but only if I get to ask you questions too."

"Deal," she says, leaning her chin on her hand. "I'll start. Do you eat or drink other things besides blood and coffee?"

Loki waits to answer until the waitress has left them alone again, a cup of tea and coffee sitting on the table between them. "Vampires can eat and drink like regular human beings, we just don't need it to survive."

"But you need blood to survive?" Ylva hasn't touched her tea yet, her eyes are fixed on him.

"Yes. You've had two questions; my turn now. How long have you lived in New York?"

"About six months now," Ylva says, starting to say more but reconsidering it. She knows how to play the game. "The coffin thing, is that real?"

"For sleeping, you mean?" The girl nods her head. "No, I sleep in a bed." Loki decides to throw her a bone. "Most of the Hollywood vampire clichés aren't true, or grossly exaggerated."

"So, garlic or silver crosses aren't vampire repellents?"

Loki shakes his head. "Nope. I actually like Italian food a lot, lots of garlic in there. And I know of a Catholic priest who is a vampire. I'm pretty sure he is around crosses a lot."

"So, is none of it true besides the drinking of blood?" Ylva is leaning with her elbows on the table, cradling her cup of tea in her hands. She blows the steam of her mug, patiently waiting for him to answer.

He contemplates on what to tell her. His first impulse is to give her straight answers, though his lifelong experience prevents him from that. You don't get to live this long - Asgardian or not - if you're not cunning and careful. "Hollywood got some things right," he answers. "We are nocturnal and we live on until someone prevents us from that."

"Isn't that the way for all of us? You live until you die from it?"

Her deep yet practical remark makes him laugh. "Are you getting philosophical on me?"

Ylva shrugs with a smile. "I listen to coffee shop conversations a lot. You hear stuff."

They continue their game of questions, Loki telling Ylva about the practical sides of being a vampire and learning from her she has come to New York to start a new life, although she doesn't really know what that life has to look like yet. She has a step-brother who lives upstate with his wife and their daughter, in a sleepy town similar to the one she grew up in. Her mother and step-dad are travelling Europe, driving a campervan they bought after selling their trucking company. Her name is true to her roots, with her deceased father being from Norway. She is 28 years old and has a degree in English Literature; 'a beautiful waste of time' according to her.

They are on their third round of drinks, Loki switching to tea after two cups of coffee. Ylva is leisurely sticking a fork in a half eaten key lime pie, her legs stretched out under the table so her feet are up on Loki's seat. She is wearing laced up leather boots with rubber soles, topped with knitted leg warmers that come up almost to her knees. The black scarf is hanging loosely around her neck, covering the top of her burgundy coloured dress. Her outfit is an accumulation of layered clothes in matching colours, her scarf and boots the only black.

They have both asked more than twenty questions and Loki stopped keeping count after about twelve. He has told her more than he probably should have, more than he has ever told a human who he had met that very same day. Yet he can't summon himself to worry about that; he likes her, simple as that.

Ylva is tired - it is late for her, she has been up her feet since early that morning - and Loki is toying with the last pieces of her pie, moving the plate telekinetically whenever she wants to stick her fork in it. She has already kicked him twice for it, telling him to cut it out, her voice thick with laughter. Their talk has dwindled down to short sentences mixed with comfortable silences and because of the late hour he knows there will come an end to their togetherness soon.

Finally, she pushes her empty plate away, covering a yawn with her hand. "I have to go, or else I will fall asleep on the spot," she says and he knows it is not far from the truth. Her eyes are lidded, not from lust but simply because it is way past her bedtime. "Will you walk me to the train?"

"No." His simple statement makes her freeze in her motions, her coat halfway up her arms. "You're not taking the train at this hour. I'll get us an Uber."

Ylva chuckles, shrugging her coat all the way on. "Next thing you're gonna tell me there are vampire Uber drivers." His blank stare makes her eyes go big. "There are?"

The driver greets them with a simple nod. His name is Javier and he is originally from Algiers; he's a relatively young vampire of around 150 years old. Loki has used his services before; the guy is not chatty - a severe stutter holding him back - and keeps to himself, a quality Loki appreciates immensely.

Ylva lives above a coffee shop with a bookstore next door that Loki has visited once or twice. The store has a nice collection of books on mythology and he remembers that the owner has some antique volumes displayed in glass cabinets in the back of the store. "Uncle Lars collects first editions too. You would like each other, I think," Ylva says absent-mindedly, bundled up in her coat as if it's a blanket and the backseat of the car is her bed.

Loki hums softly, watching the sleepy girl beside him. It's dark, though that is not a problem for vampires; he can see her clearly. The closer they get to her bed, the more tired she seems to become; she is definitely not a night owl. She blamed it on her busy week, working extra shifts at the coffee shop. She is beautiful, smart and kind and Loki is seriously contemplating to take her in his arms and kiss those sweet, soft lips. That will have to wait though: slow is the best course of action in this case.

The motor of the car idles softly while Loki assists Ylva out of the backseat. She yawns again, shutting her mouth with a sleepy giggle. "Sorry," she excuses herself, adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag.

"Do you have your keys?" Loki asks, shutting the car door behind her. She nods, rummaging around in a side pocket of her bag before pulling out a keyring with some keys and a bright pink plastic dinosaur on it.

"All right, time for bed," Loki suggests with a smile when she yawns again, hiding it behind her scarf. He places his hand on her lower back, guiding her to her door.

She looks up at him, a shy smile showing on her face. "Can I see you again?" she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

Loki limits himself to a chaste kiss on her temple. "Of course," he promises her. "You'll have to tell me what you think of the new book, remember? Now, get yourself to bed. Good night, Little Wolf."

Loki watches the door shut behind the girl before he gets back in the car. Javier looks at him in the rear view mirror. "Whe.. where where... where to, sir?"

"Red," Loki instructs the Uber driver. He has some penned up energy that is in dire need of an outlet.

The club is packed with writhing bodies, moving in synch with each other and the pounding music. Loki easily slips through the masses, making his way to the VIP booths to the side of the dance floor. He passes Fandral on the dance floor, his hands on the hips of a beautiful Asian girl as she grinds against the vampire.

Everyone is here tonight, even though it is an ordinary friday night. Thor is sitting in the main booth, Sif draped against his shoulder. They both have a slight blush on their cheeks, indicating a recent feed. Thor raises his hand when he sees his dark-haired brother and Lady Sif even shows him a small smile. It must have been a good feed if she is content enough to grant him a smile. "Loki! How good of you to join us," Volstagg calls out, gesturing to the empty seat next to him.

Loki slides in the booth and the well-trained staff immediately comes over to take his order. The waitress is a girl of around twenty years old, her long chestnut hair tied up in a tight ponytail. She is of a model-like quality; fair-skinned, thin and tall, yet still feminine. Like all female staff members she's wearing a tight black T-shirt dress with a deep neckline on top of red leather look leggings; the bloody letters of Club Red's logo printed over her right breast. It's one of the newer girls, Loki doesn't know her name. She pushes her lips into a slight pout, angling her chin up so the vampire has a good view of her throat. She might do.

"How was the book signing?" the rotund vampire next to him asks pleasantly, taking a swig of his beer.

"Fine." Loki is not in a mood to share his experiences of that night with Volstagg, even though he considers the vampire a friend. He turns his glass of whisky around on the napkin, his eyes scanning the room. Loki's tongue touches the tip of his fangs, the canines more present than earlier that evening. Club Red is a hotspot for young New Yorkers, open five nights a week. People come here to dance, to drink and to flirt. There's always a fair amount of fangbangers present, though most people just come here because Red always hosts the best DJ's and is known for its outstanding staff. The club also hardly ever has serious incidents, partly thanks to the bouncers being vampires; Hogun runs the team with strict hand.

A girl on the edge of the dance floor catches Loki's attention; she has her hair up similar to the way Ylva had it tonight, although this girl's hair is lighter. When she sees she has the attention of the vampire, she runs her hand seductively along her throat and cleavage. Loki tosses his whisky back and shrugs out of his suit jacket. Rolling up his sleeves he slowly walks over to the dance floor, fixating the girl with his eyes. She sways her hips on the beat of the music, eagerly running a hand over his chest as soon as he is close. Loki catches her hand and uses it to turn her around, pressing her back against his chest.

He ignores the way she pushes her hips back and bends his head down to sniff her throat. She smells like cranberry vodka and heavy perfume, masking her natural scent. Her heart beats strong and healthy. She moves her lips to his ear. "I'm right as rain, baby," she says huskily. "Want a taste?" She pushes her hips back again to indicate what she would like to get in return.

Loki runs a hand along her side, smelling her again. His thoughts run back to the pretty waitress with her chestnut hair, but he discards that thought quickly. This is easier, with absolutely no strings attached. That waitress would probably like to keep working here and he doesn't like to run into his former snacks regularly. The blonde girl wriggles against him, making it clear what she is offering. Her breath fans over his face, smelling clean apart from the liquor. Loki puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her with him. "Follow me."  

 


	6. Chapter VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylva has monologues with her inner Pippi Longstocking and she facetimes with her best friend.

Ylva is grateful she has the saturday off; after a long week of work and the unexpected late night it is well past noon before she finally wakes up. In that hazy state between waking and sleeping she remembers snippets of her dreams. In one dream sitting in the diner with Loki was gradually replaced by bits from the movie 'When Harry met Sally', including the iconic orgasm scene. She also remembers how the rich couple and the woman in the purple coat kept popping up in her dreams, whispering 'fangbanger' and 'he just wants your blood' in her ear. I.M. Georges had even written 'Watch out for the vampire' on the title page of her book, his autograph in blood red ink. Those bad parts faded in and out in between her fantasy's reenactments of her favourite moments of last night. Like how vulnerable Loki had looked on that sidewalk when he explained to her he just wanted to spend some more time with her; it was cute! And how he had mindlessly toyed with the nose of her shoe after she had put her feet up on the edge of his seat. She suspected he didn't even know he did it, he had his full attention on her the entire time. And of course the best part at the end of the night: how he had promised without hesitation they would see each other again.

Ylva rolls on her back, her arms spread out on the bed. She thinks about how Loki had escorted her to the front door; his hand light on her back, yet she could still feel it through her thick winter coat. Her left hand goes up to her temple, the place where Loki pressed a kiss to her skin. She presses her lips together to hide a smile, even though she's alone in her room.

On the floor next to her bed is her bag, Ylva reaches over to get the books out. Turning over to her stomach she opens her beloved copy of 'The backstreets of London'. I.M. Georges has written her a short message: 'To Ylva, who reads my books to shreds'.

Ylva brushes her finger over the autograph; it's just normal blue ink, not blood. The warning in her dream from her favourite author had more impact than the ugly words from the stuck up couple and that nosy woman. Him telling her to watch out for Loki struck a chord. Because Loki is a vampire: a real, blood-sucking vampire. One with really nice manners, darkly good looks and a wicked sense of humour. One who loves to read, who laughs at her jokes and who gives her the feeling she can tell him anything. Still, he's a vampire. He needs to drink blood on a daily basis, he can be incredibly dangerous and because he is from Asgard he is even more powerful than vampires that used to be regular humans. Until now she has only seen him move things with his mind - which is incredible enough as it is -, but who knows what else he can do?

There's another thing though... Loki is Thor's brother.  _The_ Thor, the vampire king of North America. Ylva is not really sure what being from Asgard really means - Loki evaded further questions about that -, yet she has certainly heard of the most famous vampire of the Western hemisphere! She even has visited Club Red before, when she went clubbing with Thomas and some friends. Thor being king makes Loki vampire royalty, a prince; Ylva is getting the feeling she is in over her head.

_'But he is so sweet!'_

_\- 'He is a powerful vampire.'_

_'Who joked around like a little kid by shoving my pie away from my fork.'_

_\- 'While you were eating pie, he was thinking of eating you!'_

_'...'_

_\- 'Not like that!'_

Ylva groans and pushes her face in the pillow; her inner monologue is not helping! The little angel is starting to sound more and more like aunt Yvonne, now she thinks of it. The little devil on the other hand is like an 18-year old version of Pippi Longstocking; open to anything as long as it promises to be fun. And she most certainly had a good time last night, she would even dare going as far as saying it was the best impromptu date she ever had.

She takes her phone from her nightstand, unplugging the cord. With a couple of taps she is looking at the contact she put in last night, a single name and a phone number. Should she text him? He is probably asleep right now, it's the middle of the day. And what would she text him? 'Hi, I just woke up, I dreamed about you?' Ugh, no!

Ylva scrolls further down in her contacts to the T and presses 'video call'. Her friend's face appears on the screen after just two rings. "Doll! Are you already panicking over what to wear tonight?" Thomas his chest and shoulders are bare, a towel slung over one shoulder.

She frowns and tries to remember what tonight's plans are. Something with gay bars and a bunch of friends. "Oh...!"

"Hold up!" Thomas gives her a scrutinizing look. "You're still in bed! Why are you still in bed? You're not sick, are you?!"

Ylva shakes her head against the pillow, holding the phone up in front of her face. "Not sick. I just woke up."

"You just..." Thomas his face scrunches up in almost cartoonish surprise. "It's almost 2 pm! Why on earth are you... Wait! What did you do?"

"I slept," Ylva deadpans. "Are you at the gym?"

"Yes. See?" Thomas moves his phone so she can see the locker room behind him. There are some people in various states of undress, most of them with wet hairs from the shower. His spinning class must have just ended. "But back to my question! What did you do? I thought you had that book thing last night. Since when do book-events require sleeping in the next day? Don't you bookworms all go to bed before 10?"

Ylva smiles sheepishly. "I... I might have met someone." Thomas' his reaction is just like she expected, squealing and fanning so much he almost drops his phone. "God, you can be so gay sometimes," Ylva laughs, turning over to her side and propping up her phone on the bed so she can talk more comfortably. Because, of course, Thomas wants her to describe what the guy looks like into detail.

"So, a voice that makes your knees go wobbly, incredibly well dressed, tall and dark, with long black hair... Jared Leto long hair?" Thomas raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"A little shorter. And without the beard that makes him look like Jesus."

Her friend clicks his tongue. "Got any pictures?"

"No, we just talked. I didn't touch my phone all night." Ylva doesn't try to hide the smile that comes from thinking back to last night.

"He must be one hell of a talker if you smile like that," Thomas observes with a devilish grin. "Are you sure all you guys did was chat?"

Ylva describes how they started talking when she sat down next to him at the bookstore and basically didn't stop until he brought her home. "He said we would see each other again, to talk about the new book."

"No good night kiss?" Thomas gives her his uh-oh face when she shakes her head in denial.

"Well, no, not a real kiss. Just a peck. Here." Ylva moves her hand to her temple.

Thomas pouts his lips, pretending to think hard. "That could mean all kinds of things. But, you exchanged numbers?"

"Yes."

"Thought about calling him yet?" Thomas starts laughing at her sheepish face. "I thought you would've! Well, why don't you? Playing hard to get is sooo last year!"

"He's asleep right now."

"Well? Wake him up!"

"I don't think that is a smart thing to do..." Ylva bites her lip, looking doubtful.

Thomas immediately catches on. "Wait a second... there is something that you're not telling me." He grabs his phone with both hands, giving her a hard stare. "Ylva Frederikson, why is Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome asleep in the middle of the day?!"

Ylva grimaces, feeling caught. "Because he... because he is..."

"A fucking vamp! I knew it!" Thomas shrieks over the phone, the video image shaking wildly. "You snatched yourself a vampire!" Thomas rambles on incoherently while Ylva hides her face in the pillow, not coming out until her friend has calmed down again. He is actually talking to someone off screen right now, a guy in the locker room.

She can hear the unknown man saying he dated a vampire once too. "Tell your friend to stock up on iron supplements, you don't want to get anemic."

"Oh, yes, good one," Thomas answers, turning back to face the camera. "You hear that, Ylva?"

"I wasn't planning on getting bitten, you know!" she says defensively. Because she isn't, the idea of a vampire drinking her blood is still all kinds of weird and scary, even when that vampire is Loki.

"You say that now," the unknown male chuckles off camera. "It's quite the turn on, let me tell you!"

"Really? Is it that good?" Thomas directs his attention at the guy, the camera now showing half of Thomas his face and a tiled wall. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Not if they do it right. During sex it is great." Thomas angles the camera again, showing Ylva a dark haired man with a three day stubble in workout clothes. The man grins at Ylva, giving her the thumbs up.

"Thanks," Ylva says reluctantly. "I'm not sure if I wanted to know that."

Thomas his face fills the screen again, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Get your lazy ass out of bed and go shower, shave, exfoliate, scrub and all that other girly stuff that makes you come out all supple and soft in the end. I'll be over for dinner tonight and then we are gonna talk about how you're gonna seduce a vampire!"

The line at Club Red is long and would be a real ordeal on this cold january night if the club had not put up heaters on regular intervals along the building. The warm reddish glow makes standing in line for at least forty minutes bearable. Thomas had proposed calling Loki to get them on the guest list of Red, but that didn't sit right with Ylva. Besides, they had come to the conclusion - after almost two hours of considering every possible scenario - that playing hard to get was not such a bad idea when it came to vampires. This was mainly because of Ylva's fear of getting in over her head. Yes, she really wanted to see Loki again and she couldn't deny that kissing him was high on her wishlist, however, getting bitten by a vampire was certainly not on that list! That guy from the gym and countless anonymous or not so anonymous accounts on the internet could say all they want; the idea of fangs sinking in her skin gave Ylva the chills. Illegal or not illegal, it just plain scared her. But it didn't scare her enough to not want to see Loki again and that is why they are standing in line at Club Red. After discovering Ylva had met a vampire, one connected to the vampire king, Thomas quickly adjusted their plans for going out tonight and insisted they would go to Club Red.

"You know he might not even be here tonight, right?" Ylva shifts her weight from one foot to the other. They are almost at the end of the line, not long now before they can enter the club.

Thomas waves her concerns away. "Chances are, he is. And if he is not, well, just consider this a case study on vampiral behaviour. Your future brother-in-law is gonna be here for sure, it's his club after all."

"Are you planning my wedding already?" Ylva bumps her shoulder against Thomas, though he doesn't budge and blows her a kiss in response.

Ylva is on the fence about wanting Loki to be here tonight. Part of her is hoping he will be, so she can see him again. Even though he will know she came here on purpose, she can still act like it was a coincidence. Sort of. Ugh, right now Ylva actually hopes Loki will not be here! This was a stupid idea. Last night Loki barely talked about his brother or Club Red, giving Ylva the impression he was not a big fan of the club and his brother's fame. Why would he show his face at the club on the busiest night of the week?

A quick walk around the club learns them Loki is not here tonight. Not yet, at least. They have spotted several other vampires, some of them part of the staff of the club, others who are there as visitors. The infamous fangbangers are easily recognisable too: the men and women dressed in clothes with low necklines who are clearly searching the room for a vampire. When Ylva realises she is sort of doing the same thing, minus the slutty clothing, she grabs Thomas by the arm and drags him to the bar. "I need a drink. Now."

An hour later Ylva has forgotten about her uneasiness from before. This might be a vampire club, but if you look past the fangbangers and the occasional vampire it is a perfect spot for a night of dancing. Ylva has no idea who is spinning the decks tonight, but the DJ sure knows how to work the crowd on the dance floor. Some friends of Thomas also came, claiming themselves a spot in the middle of the dancefloor and Ylva nearly forgets about vampires completely.

Of course, Thomas doesn't let her forget. When they hang out at the bar for a moment, waiting for their drink orders, they have a clear view of the VIP area. There are several booths, benches of red leather shaped like a crescent moon with a table at the center. In the biggest one, in the middle, a broad shouldered blond vampire is lounging, his muscled arm around a woman with long brown hair. While the male is wearing a light shirt with rolled up sleeves and jeans, the woman is less casually dressed. Her leather strapless top has metal studs and her pants look like they are painted on her body. Sky high stiletto heels and blood red lipstick complete her outfit, giving her a killer look.

"That is Thor," Thomas points out, taking a sip from his drink. "And that's his wife, I believe she's called Lady Sif."

"She looks scary. Are they drinking blood?" Ylva watches the bottles on the table in front of the vampires; those are not regular beer bottles. When the lights of the dance floor sweep over the booths she can see a picture of fangs on the label.

Thomas shrugs. "Could be that synthetic stuff. Isn't that what they usually drink?"

She watches the vampires with fascination and a bit of wariness. The previous time she came to the club she had not paid that much attention to the behaviour of the nightly creatures. Now, she has good reason to watch them with more interest. "Loki mentioned that, yes. They drink it warm."

"Body temperature," Thomas deadpans, making Ylva almost choke on her drink.

 


	7. Chapter VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where pink dinosaurs get lost.

Loki is stretched out on the couch; one arm behind his head, the other holding up the book he is reading. He is halfway I.M. Georges' newest book, called 'In times of need'. Told from the point of view of a kitchen help of a wealthy family in nineteenth century London it is not as recognisable for Loki as 'The backstreets of London' was, yet it still has him reading with vivid attention. In fact, he is so engrossed in his book that he only notices Fandral when the vampire pushes Loki's feet to the side to flop down on the far end of the couch. Loki gives him a deadly stare, annoyed that his friend disturbs him while reading.

"Is that from the book signing yesterday?" the blond playboy asks, studying his fingernails.

Loki nods, trying to get back in the story. Fandral drops the study of his nails and drapes his arm over the back of the couch. "Is everything all right, Loki?"

Loki lifts his book a little higher so he can look underneath it at his friend. "I beg your pardon?"

Fandral smiles apologetically. "Forgive me for asking, but you were acting a little off when you came to Red last night. That girl had clearly visible fang marks in her neck when you were done with her; that's not like you."

"No, that's more your style, isn't it?" Loki puts the book between him and Fandral again. "Speaking of... shouldn't you be scouring the city for someone with two legs and a hole to fuck?"

Fandral isn't fazed. "No need to be rude, my friend," he answers pleasantly. "And no, I'm staying home tonight. Thought I could keep you company."

"Please don't," Loki deadpans, pushing himself up to sit. He can forget about reading right now. Although he has spent many a night conversing with Fandral, he doesn't feel like sharing right now.

Before he can get up to leave the room Fandral catches his arm shortly, making Loki stop in his tracks. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yes," Loki states irritatedly. "I had to scratch an itch last night, that's all."

Fandral is not the only one who asks Loki about his behaviour from the other night. Thor actually comes to Loki's room just before dawn. The smell of alcohol and other people's sweat clings to him - courtesy of a night at the club - and Loki tells him to hit the shower as soon as he opens the door. "Yes, in a minute, brother. I want to talk to you before we all go to sleep for the day."

Loki has been watching the morning news from his divan and he puts the tv on mute when Thor comes closer, closing the door behind him. The vampire king sets himself in an armchair with carved lion's paws as legs. With his hands on the armrests and his stare cool and collected he looks regal despite the late hour. He really takes after the Allfather, although Thor also has a softer side to him; something Odin sorely lacks. Loki has learned that during the long years at Odin's court; first as the child brought home from Jotunheim, a playmate to the Allfather's son. And when he reached the right age Odin turned him to be a brother and supporter to the powerful heir to the throne. Thor observes Loki for a moment before he starts talking again. "I'm gonna have to ask you to be more careful when you feed at the club."

"Why?" Loki asks curtly, though he can think of the answer himself. Besides, talking back to Thor is almost second nature; Loki has always been a reluctant brother and supporter, at least on the outside.

"You know why, brother. I can't have the police sniffing around in the club. There is a difference between suspecting there is illegal feeding going on at the club and actually seeing the fang marks." Thor rubs his hand across his beard. "Why didn't you use the artery in the groin like usual?"

"Ugh." The prince scrunches up his nose. "She smelled funny."

Thor's bellowing laugh fills the room. "Serves you right for taking no longer than five seconds to find yourself a snack!" He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "What was up with that anyway? You hardly ever feed in public places, much less from some random fangbanger."

"I had an..."

"Yeah, yeah, an itch to scratch. Fandral said as much. Would you mind sharing what caused that itch? I thought you had a quiet night on the town, just that book-thing." When Loki doesn't answer Thor continues in a stern voice. "You know you have to tell me when something happens. This is  _my_ town, I have to know when things happen to the vampires here."

Loki rolls his eyes. "Nothing happened. Nothing big anyway."

"Then what got you all worked up?"

The dark prince gets up from his chair and paces the room. "Can you let it go already? Nothing happened! I was just... in a bad mood."

"Tell me, Loki." Thor's eyes begin to glimmer dangerously; he is getting angry.

Loki groans. He is not in the mood for a brawl with his brother. Last time that happened in this room they ripped the canopy from his bed and it took a whole week to get it repaired. Loki is a skilled fighter and his telekinesis gives him an advantage over other vampires, but not Thor. "Fine," he growls. "I forgot to feed properly before I went to the book-signing. It was warm in there, people started to smell like food."   
It's not even a real lie. He did forget to drink an extra bottle of blood before he went out, something he usually does when he goes to an event with lots of people together in a small space. But, the only one who smelled good was Ylva and he had enough self control to keep his bloodlust down around the girl. That is, until the front door closed behind her.

Thor scoffs. "That's a rookie mistake, brother." The vampire king gets up from his chair and paces to the door. Before he leaves the room he turns back one last time, a grim look on his face. "Laufey is visiting in a fortnight."

Loki stares at the closed door for a long time after his brother has left the room. A visit from another vampire royal is always risky business; more often than not it turns into a clash of the egos. Even though the kings and queens have divided the modern world somewhat fairly amongst themselves, tensions start to rise whenever they get together. They have a rule to visit each other at least twice a century and for most those two visits in a hundred years are all they can muster. Thor is a gentle giant compared to some of the other royals, as long as they don't cross him. Make Thor angry and he is like a thunderstorm; a force to be reckoned with. Besides, they know not to anger the Asgardian vampire; everyone who thought they could stand up to him has regretted it. Thor could rule Midgard if he wanted, yet he is content with the piece he has carved out for himself and his clan.

Because of his status - and mellow nature - he plays host to visiting royals more often than most. Those visits can be somewhat tensed, often courtesy to Loki stirring things up to have some fun, though it always ends well. But now Laufey is coming.

The Russian vampire king rarely leaves his territory where he rules with an iron fist. Where most royals have evolved when human society evolved, securing a place for themselves in the modern world, Laufey resents that same world. Like the Asgardians, Laufey has come to Midgard from another realm in search of the prized human blood. Most of the year he lives in an actual castle, on the edge of the Russian tundra. Loki mildly appreciates Laufey's penchant for the old days, where vampires stood above humans instead of amongst them. Yet the Jotun vampire has proven himself incapable of adapting; he is sticking to the old ways out of sheer stubbornness, not out of convenience or a higher sense of ethics. Besides, the Russian king is a sexist brute, with absolutely no sense of humour or style. Loki loathes the fact that he shares a heritage with the beast, although very few are aware of that fact since he grew up at the court of the Allfather from a very young age.

Loki goes to sleep with Laufey on his mind and when he wakes up the Jotun vampire king is the first thing he thinks about. Yet he discovers that he is not the only one who is dreading the impending visit. When he comes in the kitchen he finds Lady Sif leaning against the counter, taking angry sips from her bottle of synthetic blood. "We gotta rent the whole bloody Mayfair Hotel just to accommodate that horrid butcher and his entourage, only because he is too fucking archaic to drink synthetic blood! Do you know what that's gonna cost?!"

Thor leans back in the kitchen chair, the wood creaking alarmingly under the pressure. He sighs and runs his hands over his face. "I know, dear," he answers muffled. "I know."

The Manhattan apartment is too small to host a visiting royal and his or her entourage, so they usually put them up in a fancy hotel that caters to vampires. The Mayfair Hotel is the most exclusive hotel in the city to do so, though they usually don't have to rent out the entire venue. It's not that Laufey's entourage is that big, it's more the way they behave; no human that finds themselves alone in a room with them is safe. The last time they visited the queen of South-America, the Russians drained four chambermaids dry and several other members of the hotel staff needed blood transfusions. He only stayed for a week; it was a disaster.

In stark comparison, whenever queen Maria Ana Oliveira visits New York, she and two of her most trusted friends sleep in the large guest room of the Manhattan apartment and the visits sometimes last up to a month. But the South-American queen is a delight to have around and a good friend of the Asgardian vampires, the complete opposite of Laufey.

"We could always set the Mayfair on fire," Loki suggests casually, taking a bottle from the fridge. "It would look so pretty, all ablaze."

"As much as even I would like that," Thor says with a sigh, "you know we can't."

"Would be a waste of that beautiful hotel," Volstagg adds with a chuckle.

"If we would take them all out in one go, there will be no repercussions. The other royals have no love for Laufey or his court." Turning the heated bottle over in his hand Loki takes a seat at the table and watches Thor chew on his words. If anyone would be able to pull this off, it would be them.

"That is not such a bad idea, actually," Sif says with a devilish grin.

The vampire king slams his fist on the table. "No!" He takes a deep breath and spreads his hands out on the table, his fingers flexing. "We can't. The code of hospitality prevents us from hurting our guests unprovoked."

Loki snorts. "Laufey is a walking provocation."

"As much as I agree with you, we can't go and kill him without just reason." Thor gives his brother a stern look.

"So if I can find a just reason, we're good?" Loki smirks. "Sounds like a challenge!"

Thor rolls his eyes, though he says nothing. Volstagg keeps his face neutral, save for a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Lady Sif on the other hand is smirking widely, watching Loki with appreciation for once.

By the time Fandral and Hogun join the others, the Asgardians have already moved on to the topic of what has to be arranged before the Russian vampire king arrives. "Luckily we have two weeks to take care of everything," Thor says.

"If not more," Fandral pipes up. "Last century he said he would come the first week of May and he didn't show up until July."

Volstagg raises his fork. "Here's to hoping he doesn't come until February 30th!"

***

The business of Laufey's visit had taken his mind off Ylva, but when a little later that evening his phone buzzes in his pocket with a message of her, it cheers Loki right up.

**Ylva:**   _I finally started reading today. Got the first 5 chapters down. I really like it so far. Have you started yet?_

**Loki:**   _I have only 3 chapters to go before I'm finished. ;-)_

**Ylva:** _No spoilers!_

**Loki:** _My lips are sealed. How come you didn't start sooner? I thought you'd said you couldn't wait to read it._

**Ylva:** _Late nights, sleeping in and a pretty nasty hangover today. I blame those excellent cocktails at Red._

**Loki:**   _You went to Red? :-)  
_ Loki is suddenly regretting not going to the club last night, even though he had decided he would wait at least a couple of days before contacting Ylva again. Take it slow. He likes the mortal girl and that makes him cautious; both for her safety and for his own. Still, he is happily surprised by her texts, it makes him realise he had been waiting to hear from her.

**Ylva:** _My friend's idea. We had a great night! Did lose my keys though, I think they fell out of my coat. :-P Had to spend the night at Thomas his place._

Loki flexes his jaw, reading the message for a second time. How convenient for that Thomas that Ylva lost her keys.

**Ylva:** _So that's something for me to do: get my keys back from the lost and found box at the club. If there is such a thing there._

**Loki:** _I believe there is. Somewhere._

**Ylva:**   _I'm off to bed now. Gotta work the early shift tomorrow and I want to read some pages before bed._

**Loki:**   _Enjoy your book, Little Wolf. Good night._

**Ylva:**   _Good night, Loki. I guess yours has only just started. :-)_

**Loki:** _It has. Maybe I'll come haunt your dreams for entertainment. ;-)_

**Ylva:** _Oh, so you've been doing that on purpose?_

**Loki:** _Are you saying you dream about me? :-)_

**Ylva:**   _My lips are sealed! Good night._

**Loki:**   _Sweet dreams._

Loki puts his phone away and slips his shoes on. In the room next to his he finds Hogun in some complicated yoga pose. "Hogun! Did you see any pink dinosaurs last night?"


	8. Chapter VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best friends to the rescue.

The sound of the alarm is harsh in the early morning. It's not even light outside and it will not be for at least another hour. Coffee & Books opens at 7 on weekdays, catering to the early customers who drop by on their way to work and take their coffee to go. Although Ylva doesn't particularly like getting up in the dark - the early hour feeling extra rough because of the late nights this weekend -, there is something about seeing the sun start to rise when your workday starts.

When she steps outside at the back of the building, a fire escape connecting the back door to the alley behind the coffee shop below, it's cold, dark and gray outside. Ylva doubts she will see the sun at all today, no wonder january is one of the most depressing months. When she unlocks the backdoor of Coffee & Books Thomas arrives too, his hair still a little damp from the shower. "Good morning, doll!" he calls out, showing he is never grumpy, no matter what time or day it is.

Together they ready the coffee shop for opening, the smell of freshly baked muffins quickly filling the room. At 7 o'clock sharp Ylva opens the door and puts the chalkboard sign on the sidewalk. The first customer already walks in behind her back and she knows more will follow soon. Coffee & Books is famous for its muffins, though the coffee is pretty darn good too. They are one of few small businesses on this block; most of the buildings are offices. Stark Tower is right around the corner too, every now and then Ylva has to take a delivery there.

Thomas is manning the counter and Ylva is checking the napkin holders on the tables when she suddenly hears a voice behind her. It's low and smooth like velvet; she immediately recognises it, a warm glow filling her stomach. "Good morning, Little Wolf."

"Loki!" Ylva turns on her heels, finding the vampire close behind her. He is wearing his black coat, the houndstooth scarf wrapped around his neck. A layer of fine droplets covers his hair and wool coat, a result from the drizzle that started outside.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket, holding something up for her. "I think these belong to you." A bright pink plastic dinosaur on a keyring dangles from his finger.

"My keys!" Without thinking Ylva moves up to her tip toes and presses a kiss to Loki's cheek, her hand catching his to slide the keyring from his finger. "Thank you!"

Loki shows her a surprised smile when she releases him and Ylva feels her ears heat up, feeling a bit awkward all of a sudden. "Thomas, look! Loki found my keys!" she calls out to her friend behind the counter, hiding her embarrassment by jangling the keyring in the air.

"Way to go Mr. T.D.H.!" Thomas hoots, grinning wide.

"T. D. H.?" Loki asks her with a chuckle, putting his hands back in his coat pockets. His head is cocked to the side, his green eyes sparkling with restrained mirth.

"Tall, dark and handsome," Ylva explains reluctantly, the blush now spreading to her cheeks. Her friend came up with the silly nickname on saturday. "Thomas should keep his mouth shut," she adds, eyes shooting daggers to her friend who is visibly appreciating Loki behind his back, even giving her the thumbs up.

Loki looks over his shoulder, catching a last grin from Thomas before he helps the next customer. "That's Thomas?"

Ylva nods, groaning softly. "Yeah, he's my best friend. And he doesn't know when to shut his gay ass up."

The vampire just smirks, clearly enjoying Ylva's embarrassment. She doesn't really mind, she is much too happy to see him; and it is really sweet he took the trouble to come here. "Did you stay up late just so you could bring me my keys?"

"I figured you needed them," he answers casually, his eyes fixed on her face.

"I do. Again, thank you so much!" Ylva beams. "I had to borrow Lisa's keys today." Suddenly, she realises what time of day it is. "Shit! Shouldn't you be... I don't know, underground or something? The sun is coming up!"

A low chuckle escapes Loki's throat. "What? Are you afraid I will spontaneously combust?" he asks teasingly.

"I just don't want to have to clean up a pile of ashes." Ylva matches his sass, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Don't worry, you don't have to get your dustpan out. But I do have to go now, I just came in to bring you your keys."

"You shouldn't have, but I'm really glad that you did," Ylva tells him warmly,lowering her arms again. She doesn't really know what to do with her hands, apart from putting them on Loki that is.

Loki's smile is just as warm. "It is my pleasure."

A silence settles between them and Ylva studies his face, feeling a little regretful. She doesn't want him to go, something Loki seems to share with her. "Too bad you can't stay for coffee," she says quietly, meaning a little more than just that.

Loki catches her drift, smiling easily. This time it's him who leans in, his lips brushing her cheek. "Call me when you finish that book of yours. We'll talk about it over dinner."

She watches the vampire leave the coffee shop, a tingling glow spreading from her stomach to her cheeks. Her face almost hurts from the broad smile that is plastered on there. It's not until she loses sight of him from the window that she moves from her spot and joins Thomas behind the counter.

"That was awfully nice of T.D.H. to fetch your keys for you," he says, putting the plastic lids on a ready order of two coffees to go.

"It is," Ylva replies, her eyes wandering to the shop window again, as if Loki might have changed his mind and could return any moment. "I didn't expect him to go over to Red and bring me my keys, certainly not first thing in the morning!"

Thomas closes the register after putting away the money and turns to her. "It was a great excuse for you to see each other again."

The way he says it rings warning bells in Ylva's mind. "You didn't..." she says, her voice trailing off when she sees his wide smirk. She hits him on the arm. Hard. "You fucker! This was your work!"

"Ow! You see that, Miss?" Thomas exclaims to the young woman who is waiting to place her order. "I did her a favour and she hits me for it!"

"I'm sure you earned it," the woman deadpans. "One cappuccino, please."

"Coming right up, Miss," Ylva grins, sticking her tongue out to Thomas.

Her colleague collects the money from the woman - a young lawyer by the looks of it - and plasters his most innocent face on. "Don't tell me you didn't like it when he showed up! The way you looked at him... it almost gave  _me_  a sugar rush!"

On monday morning everyone needs coffee to start their day, so Ylva doesn't have the time to make Thomas pay for what he did. And to be honest, she is secretly glad he took her keys out of her pocket and left them at Club Red. Loki taking the trouble to pick them up and bring them to her is a clear sign of him liking her, right? Why else would he do this for her?

A small voice in the back of her head suggests Loki is only in it for her blood, but Ylva quickly discards that thought. Surely he has faster ways to get a drink from a human? She can't imagine he would go through this every time he wanted to bite someone, it seems cumbersome, especially with willing fangbangers around.

When the morning shift is over Lisa comes in to take over from Ylva. Thomas has a longer shift and Ylva sticks around a bit to help with the busy lunch hour. When the coffee shop has somewhat cleared out again, the remaining customers content and taken care of, Ylva, Lisa and Thomas have some time to talk.

Her cousin tells them about her holiday last week. She and her boyfriend Marc went to Miami, where they stayed at his brother's home. "Winter in Miami, I could definitely get used to that! I have not worn a jacket all week!" Lisa gestures to the raindrops that slide down the windows of the coffee shop. "Coming home to this is a world of change!"

"Yes, sun and beaches sound nice for this time of year. This rain sucks." Ylva unties her apron and folds it up in her hands to put in the hamper later.

"You wouldn't want to live in Miami," Thomas interjects. "Too much sun for the vampires."

"Why would Ylva care about that?" Lisa asks curiously. "Did I miss something?"

"Not really," Ylva says, interrupted by Thomas with a loud "Yes!".

"Ylva is dating a vampire!" Thomas uses his shouty whisper voice.

"We're not dating!" Ylva says defensively.

"Yet." Her friend wiggles his eyebrows at her.

She rolls her eyes at Thomas. "I met a nice guy, we went for a drink. And he happens to be a vampire, that's all."

Lisa looks at her with big eyes. "He  _happens_ to be a vampire?! Like, you didn't know at first?"

"Oh, I knew," Ylva shrugs. It's true. She knew he was a vampire from the moment they locked eyes. And she didn't care one bit.

"You went for a drink with a vampire?!" Lisa asks astonished. "Did he drink blood? Your blood?!"

Ylva shakes her head. "Coffee. And tea. I had pie too. It was nice, we talked."

"Is she for real?" Lisa asks, turning to Thomas like he is the expert on Ylva's sanity.

"Yup!" Thomas pops the p. "Guy came in early this morning. Looks good, though a bit too dark and edgy to my taste."

"He came in this mor... Okay. What the fuck." Lisa runs a hand over her face and stares at Ylva.

"He is just a guy, Lisa! He's polite, he is well-read, he is a gentleman." Ylva is a little annoyed everyone is reacting like this, just because Loki is a vampire.

"Yeah, a gentleman who wants to drink your blood!"

"He promised he wouldn't," Ylva says. At least not without my permission, she adds in her mind. Not that she is planning on giving that permission any time soon.

Lisa scoffs. "I promised Marc I wouldn't watch the new episode of Outlander without him. Didn't keep that promise either."

And just like that Thomas and Lisa are discussing Outlander, Thomas giving Ylva a wink when her cousin doesn't see it. A couple of minutes later the whole discussion about her dating a vampire is forgotten and Ylva goes up to the apartment she shares with her cousin.

She has the afternoon to herself, a pleasant idea with this gray weather outside. Ylva installs herself on the couch with a pot of tea and her book. She wants to read, a dinner with Loki being great motivation to do so.

Unfortunately, her mind strays every few sentences. She can't keep her attention on I.M. Georges' words, not when her brain keeps turning back to Loki and what he is every time. Positives and negatives are tumbling over each other and sometimes they are one and the same. Finally, she puts the book away and grabs a sheet of paper. With her thoughts this jumbled, there is only one way to get her head straight again: write it down!

An hour later she has a page scribbled full with all the things she knows about Loki, from what she observed or what he told her about himself and about being a vampire. There's also a lot of questions left.

       

Seeing it all written down makes her realise two things: one, she isn't scared of Loki being a vampire, she mostly worries about the practical things. And two, she has a crush on him.

Ylva falls back on the couch, her feet kicking the pillows. She has only met Loki last friday and seen him a second time this morning. But there is no denying the flutter in her stomach or the smile that forms on her face every time she thinks of him. Meeting him at the book signing, the evening they spent together... It may not have been love at first sight, but it is starting to feel a lot like love at first night!

When she tries again, it's a lot easier to concentrate on her book; writing everything down has helped to clear her head. There are still questions, but most of those are things she can simply ask Loki when she sees him again. And the best excuse to see him again is the book in her lap.

Still, it takes her a couple of days to finish the book. She wants to read it thoroughly, not skim through it. You can't have a discussion about a book if you barely read it. And the book is really good; it may not be as good as 'The backstreets of London', but it certainly is coming in high on her list of favourites. The minute she finishes the book, she calls Loki.

Lisa is the one to open the door for Loki the next day, while Ylva frantically tries to find her keys. She eventually finds them between the couch cushions, touching the pointy tail of the dinosaur when she runs her hands underneath the cushions. She always manages to lose the damn things, there's a good reason she has such a flashy keychain.

"Your vampire is waiting downstairs by the door," Lisa says, watching how Ylva quickly puts on her coat. "Be careful, all right?"

Ylva gives her cousin a quick hug. "I'll be fine, don't worry about it. Loki is a nice guy, vampire or not."

Lisa hands her her bag. "If you say so. He does look good, I have to admit that." She smiles when Ylva looks over her outfit one last time. "You look good too. Now, go have fun!"

"Thanks!" Ylva quickly runs out the door, pausing on the landing in the hallway. Across from their door is the door to the apartment next door, where an elderly couple lives above their dry cleaning store. The apartments share a narrow hallway, no wider than the flight of stairs that runs up from the front door.

Just inside the door stands Loki, a smile forming on his face when he sees her. "Hello," Ylva says, a little shy all of a sudden. Excitement and nerves make her stomach flip and her throat clench.

"Hello, Little Wolf," Loki says warmly and his words signal her feet to move, quickly going down the stairs until she stops on the last step. They're the same height now, barely a feet apart.

Her heart hammers in her chest, skipping a beat when she notices how Loki's gaze drifts to her lips before they lock eyes again. There's this impulse running through her body, a sudden need to throw her arms around his neck and pull him close. She has never reacted this way to a man this fast; it is overwhelming and alarming, yet it feels so natural at the same time.

She only notices her hands have drifted forward, having a mind of their own, a mind of touching him, when his long fingers gently close around her right hand. Her left hand meets the wool fabric of his coat, clutching it, as his free hand slowly travels up to her face. His touch is electric, sending shivers down her spine as he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. 

 


	9. Chapter IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy goodness.

 

Loki's thoughts drift off more often that week than he would like to admit to anyone other than himself. Or to Ylva maybe, because she is the one that occupies his mind on those occasions. Going over to Red to search for her keys - which he found in no time in a curver box that said 'lost and found' in the back of the coat room, the neon pink dinosaur sticking out like a sore thumb - had been a split-second decision, triggered by a sudden pang of jealousy. A feeling that had absolutely no grounds, as Thomas turned out to be the typical 'gay best friend'. Still, his unjust envy had brought him to Coffee & Books, just minutes before sunrise. He was lucky the sky was so overcast; it meant he could stay outside a little longer before sleep and daylight compelled him to go to his resting place.

Sleep pulled at his senses, blanketing him, and the young woman had her own special effect on him. Her voice, her smell, her blush when her friend called him by a silly nickname... She looked at him in a way he knew was mirrored by his own eyes. She pulled him in and it was much more than the sweet scent of her blood that caused this magnetizing sensation. He knew he had to take it slow, that it would be better if they didn't rush into things - whatever 'things' turned out to be. Yet when he stood in front of her, it was hard to keep a level head.

When he got her call, a couple of days later, she said the magic words as soon as he picked up the phone: "I finished the book."

She had not said her name, not even hello. That came later, after he replied to those four words. "Good. Dinner, tomorrow?"

"I would like that, yes," she said, her smile apparent in her voice. "It's Ylva by the way, hi."

"I know, darling." The casually spoken endearment slipped his tongue and though he thought he could hear her breath hitch for a second, she didn't say anything about it. "Any preferences when it comes to a restaurant?"

"I'm sure you can pick a nice place," she answered. "Everything is fine with me."

"So, Pizza Hut it is?" he teased.

"Sure! We can go to McDonalds for dessert afterwards. I love their sundaes!"

"Chocolate or caramel?"

"Chocolate," she resolutely answered. "With nuts on top!"

They talked for a while, just casual things. She told him about her day at work and asked him about his plans for the night. At the end of their phone call Thor walked into the living room, where Loki had been watching the late news when Ylva called. "See you tomorrow," Loki promised. "I'll pick you up at 7."

"Got a date?" Thor asked curiously as soon as Loki put his phone away.

"Yes." Loki didn't bother hiding it from his brother, he would find out eventually anyway. There wasn't much in this city that stayed hidden from the vampire king, something that annoyed Loki to no end, no matter how long they both lived.

"Mortal or vamp?"

"Human."

"Sweet," Thor grinned. "Picked someone up at the club?"

Loki shook his head. "Bookstore."

His brother laughed. "Ah, yes, a great place for picking up dates." Loki didn't react to his brother's lame attempt at a joke. "It's been a while since you've dated," Thor observed after a short silence. The vampire king perched on the armrest of the sofa, intent on making conversation.

"So?"

"Nothing," Thor smiled. "It's nice to hear you found someone you like."

"It's a date. Not a wedding." Loki rolled his eyes at his brother.

"You never know..." the vampire king said teasingly. He caught the remote control just before it would have hit him in the head. "Easy, Loki, I'm just messing with you!"

Thor got up and started to walk in the direction of the kitchen. "You might want to keep your date away from here when Laufey is around."

"Thanks, I had not thought of that," Loki answered sarcastically.

Thor shrugged. "Just saying. You know how he likes to take stuff from others."

"Yes, he's like a full-sized three year old." Loki followed Thor into the kitchen, taking the bottle of blood his brother handed him from the fridge. "I still like the idea of incinerating him and his posse."

Thor shot him a look. "You know we can't." The blond vampire frowned when Loki showed him a smirk. "That is  _not_  a challenge, brother."

On Volstagg's recommendation Loki has made reservations at an authentic Italian restaurant in the city. They even serve blood, something which not many human-owned establishments do. Not that Loki picked the restaurant because of that; the rotund vampire said the food there reminded him of their time in Florence and Loki has fond memories of those centuries.

There's a persistent rain coming down from the dark skies and Loki opens his umbrella when he steps out of Javier's car on the street corner. "I'll be a minute, wait here."

Wedged in between a dry cleaner and the coffee shop is a door with two doorbells next to it. Loki buzzes the top one that says 'L. Frederikson' on a small handwritten sign. A dark-skinned woman opens the door, light pooling out over the sidewalk.   
"Good evening, I'm here to pick Ylva up."

"You must be Loki," the woman says, looking him up and down before opening the door all the way. "I'm Lisa, Ylva's cousin. Come out of the rain, Ylva will be down any second. She's searching for her keys."

"Again?" Loki steps onto the mat and shakes his umbrella out before he folds it up and leans it against the wall. He pushes the door closed behind him.

Lisa pauses a few flights up the stairs. "Again, yes. Story of her life. I got her one of those keychains that make a sound when you clap your hands; didn't do shit."

Loki chuckles. "Maybe you should go help her find them."

"Story of  _my_ life," Lisa answers and disappears into the apartment.

The dark prince patiently waits at the bottom of the stairs. He could go up after her, but then Lisa would have to invite him in and he doesn't want to rub it in her face he's a vampire; he doesn't like to be reminded of the limitations of his kind either.

It's not before long that Ylva rushes out the door, her green coat open to a night blue dress underneath. She is wearing something similar to the night he met her; layers of complimenting colours that make it possible for her to wear a dress in the january cold. Her hair is down, spread out over the collar of her coat. Loki can make out a thin braid between her wavy locks, holding the hair out of her eyes. The young woman pauses on the landing, her voice a little shy as their eyes take each other in. She doesn't move until Loki says his own hello, as if she needs a start signal.

When she comes down, coming closer with each step, Loki unconsciously moves towards the stairs. The sight of her, her smile, her scent, it's like a bombardment of the senses. Her fast heartbeat fills his ears as she comes to a stop right in front of him at the bottom step. Loki's eyes dart to her slightly parted lips, the flutter in her heartbeat clear as he does so. Without taking his eyes off her, he senses Ylva's hand close to his. He folds his fingers around her hand, the skin soft and warm against his. Conventions would dictate they'd reach this point later this evening, maybe after dinner or when he brought her home again; yet the magnetic pull is unmistakable.

Loki reaches up to brush a lock of smooth hair behind her ear, his own breathing faltering for a second when she leans into his touch. "Can I kiss you?" he asks in a whisper, catching the last syllables of her soft 'yes, please,' with his mouth.

Her soft lips mold against his, her breath sweet and her taste even better than he had imagined. She moves her arms up around his neck, allowing him to slide his hands down her open coat and around her back. Ylva is warm against him as they continue their exploratory kiss. The only things that prevent Loki from losing himself in it - in her - completely, are his fangs. He can't restrain the sharp canines from running a tiny bit longer, although he successfully keeps them within bounds.   
They break their kiss, though they keep their embrace. He leans lightly against her forehead, breathing in the same oxygen as she does. "I'm sorry," Loki says quietly. "That was a bit too soon, maybe."

Ylva pulls back a little, her eyes sparkling. "Are you kidding? I wouldn't have made it through dinner if I had to wait to kiss you!"

Loki tightens his grip on her, his fingers digging in her sides lightly; she's ticklish, like he knew she would be. She giggles against his shoulder, coming up to kiss him again. He lets her lead the way, responding to every small movement. Ylva is the one to deepen the kiss, gently nudging him to let her in. The dark prince is very careful to push his fangs back, all the new tastes and sensations making it very hard for him to do so. Still, he lets Ylva be the one to end the kiss, holding her against him until she does.  
She runs her finger lightly over his bottom lip. "No fangs," she says with a smile after looking at him for a moment. "I was wondering about that."

"Oh, they're there, believe me," Loki answers lightly, amazed and at the same time not totally surprised by her ease around him.

"Can I see?" She steps down to the floor, now a good couple of inches shorter than him. Her hands hold on to the lapels of his coat, keeping him close. Loki opens his mouth a little, allowing his fangs to run out completely. With her scent in his nose and her taste lingering on his tongue, the instinct that controls them is very much present. Ylva's eyes go wide for a second when she sees the canines grow and he closes his lips around his fangs again, not wanting to be studied for too long.

"You are holding back," she says. It's not a question, it's an observation.  
Loki nods, running his hands from her spine to her hips and back.  
"Is that hard?"

"A little," Loki admits. "You smell nice," he offers by way of explanation. "You taste incredible," he adds, planting a kiss in her hair. "And it's all new..."

"You have to get used to it," she says understandingly. Ylva pushes herself up on her toes and pecks him on the lips. "I guess that means we'll have to kiss a lot."

Loki smiles against her lips. "Sounds like a plan."  
They kiss some more, following through on their plan immediately, though Loki keeps his fangs out of the way. She is understanding, yes, but it's another thing to confront her with everything at once. Seeing his fangs is one thing, feeling them is another.

In the back of Javier's car Ylva holds his hand in her lap, her fingers running lightly over every dent and curve of his hand. Loki watches her in the secluded dark of the car; every now and then she locks in on his gaze, but she also watches the lights of the city through the raindrops on the car window. She makes this feel so easy, but Loki knows from experience that close relationships between humans and vampires are far from easy. However, the dark prince is willing to find out how good of a match this is or can be. When he is careful, who knows where this can lead?

His choice of restaurant was a good one; Ylva loves Italian food and she has never been in this restaurant before. The establishment has tables with white linen and wooden chairs in the front and booths made of cream coloured leather in the back; the host walks them to a corner booth after taking their coats.

Their waiter follows shortly, handing them their menus and asking if they want something to drink. "Perhaps some O-negativ for you, Sir?"

Loki stares evenly at the young man, who has the smarts to look away under his stare. He has taken precautions before he picked Ylva up, he didn't want to start the night by drinking blood in front of the girl. He's not ashamed to do it, it's more that he doesn't want Ylva to feel uncomfortable; although he has a feeling she is more accepting than most when it comes to him. "A glass of Cabernet Sauvignon will do fine."

"Of course, Sir. And for the lady?"

"The same please. Maybe a bottle?" Ylva looks at him to see if that's what he wants too.

Loki nods and the waiter leaves them after telling them about the specials. He is back shortly with the bottle of red wine and Loki pours them both a glass.

"See anything you like?" Loki asks Ylva when they look over their menus.

"Too much," she answers. "I can't choose!"

She looks up to him. "You have travelled a lot. Ever been to Italy?"

"I've lived in Florence for some time," Loki confirms. "Nice climate, beautiful city and wonderful food."

"Florence! That city is in the top 3 of my travel wishlist," Ylva says enthusiastically. "I would love to visit the Uffizi museum and see all the beautiful churches."

"I would highly recommend it." Loki takes a sip of his wine, memories of his time in the Italian city flashing through his mind. It has been a couple of years since he last was in Florence, maybe he should visit again. Maybe this time with a travel companion? Loki pushes the thought down immediately; he should not get ahead of himself like this, no matter how lovely his company is. Instead, he starts to tell her about the Italian city and the sights he visits every time he is there.

When their waiter returns to take their order, Ylva still hasn't been able to make a choice - mainly because they have been talking about other things - so Loki does it for her. In fluent Italian he places their order, evoking the question how many languages he speaks.  
"Italian, French, Spanish and some Russian," he tells her and again he finds himself falling into easy conversation with the young woman next to him.

It's simple, like everything seems to be with her. He knows that's not true, but he doesn't care at this point. Especially when they scoot closer and closer to each other in the corner bench with every course, Ylva ending up in the crook of his shoulder by the time they share the Tiramisu dessert.


	10. Chapter X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a date with the vampire!

Having dinner with a vampire isn't really that different from other dates Ylva has had, except it is better. Whether it is because of his advanced life-experience or because they seem to match so well; Loki stands out from all the other men Ylva has dated. She had not planned to kiss him when he picked her up, yet it seemed inevitable as soon as she saw him waiting for her down by the stairs. It was like a magnet pulled her towards him, an invisible force she has not yet experienced before.

Because she couldn't make up her mind and soon completely forgot about having to order while Loki told her about Florence, he orders for the both of them. In fluent Italian of which Ylva only catches a few words, so she doesn't exactly know what dishes will arrive to their table. She doesn't really care either. The food is excellent, but the company is better.  
There is not a moment of awkwardness between them, everything just flows. Even when Loki tells her he was in Florence during the Renaissance, it doesn't register with her as bizarre or frightening. The vampire tells her about his time in the Italian city and he could just be talking about his two weeks of vacation there instead of living there for nearly two centuries. Loki even has a home in the Italian city that he rents out; something he does with various properties across the globe to have a steady source of income.

"So, if you want to visit Florence, you just kick the tenants out?"

Loki chuckles and shakes his head. "That would make me a bad landlord. If it's only for a short visit I often stay with friends. The Medici family has a couple of guest houses around the city, they always have guests over. I guess vampires love culture."

"There are Medici vamps?" Loki shrugs at her question, as if the answer is obvious; and it probably is. "Is New York a hotspot for visiting vampires too?"

"Well, this  _is_  the city that never sleeps," Loki answers. "Which comes in handy when you, you know, live at night."

"Is that why you are here too?"

Loki pours them another glass of wine, waiting to answer. "I guess I'm here mostly because of my brother."

"The vampire king."

"I just call him Thor." Loki raises an eyebrow when he looks at her over the edge of his glass.

"So, is he like the king of all vampires?"

"It's complicated." Loki doesn't seem that stoked to talk about this topic and Ylva doesn't really understand why.

"I can do complicated." She moves her hand over the table to touch his fingers that are toying with the stem of his glass of wine. "Wouldn't it be good for me to know some things about vampire society? I might run into Thor eventually if we continue to hang out..."

Loki hooks his finger around one of hers. "Is that what we are doing? Hanging out?"

"Hanging out, having dinner... kissing..." Ylva leans over and Loki does the same to make good on her words. He hooks his arm around her hips to slide her towards him over the smooth surface of the corner bench.

They kiss until Ylva almost forgets about her question from before, but Loki hasn't. "I guess it's sensible if you know a few things," he says quietly when he releases her.

Ylva pull her knees up on the bench as Loki leans back, his arm resting on top of her legs. "Enlighten me," she tells him earnestly. "I want to learn about your world."

Little did she know there was so much to learn. There is not one vampire king, there are several, each with their own territory and they are surrounded by a clan that is somewhat similar to a royal family. The clan is usually made up of vampires that were turned by the king or queen or have other long-standing relationships with the monarch. The royals visit each other to keep in touch; in fact, the Russian vampire king will be visiting New York in little over a week from now. Loki didn't want to say much about it, other than that this king is a royal pain in the ass and Ylva should stay away when he's in town. It sounds like good advice; she doesn't want to get in an angry vampire's way. She'd much rather be around the vampire that kisses her ever so gently every time there's a lull in his story.

"How do you become vampire king?" Ylva asks him. "Do you have to be the biggest and baddest vampire around?"

"Sort of," Loki confirms. "It's a constant power struggle. Being king or queen is a dangerous profession."

"Thor doesn't look like he is afraid of any dangers." As far as Ylva has seen the American vampire king is pretty laid back.

"My brother is a bit different from the other vampires on Midgard, or Earth, as you call it. Our whole clan is," Loki explains. "What do you know of becoming a vampire?"

Ylva is a bit taken aback by his question. "I don't know... You have to get bitten by a vampire? Or I guess there's more to it than that, because otherwise every fangbanger would be a vampire."

"There is more to it, it's a whole process and it's not done lightly," Loki remarks, his fingers toying with a lock of her hair on her shoulder. "Most vampires are made, but some of us are born. Not on Midgard though, born vampires are very rare throughout the universe."

"Thor is a born vampire," she guesses and Loki confirms her hunch. He had already told her the Asgardian vampires were more powerful than regular vampires. Maybe she wasn't so wrong in asking if Thor was king of all vampires. "You're Thor's brother, does that make you..."

"Adopted," Loki says, leaving it at that one word. Ylva guesses he doesn't want to talk about it and she's not gonna pry. If he wants to tell her some time it'll be soon enough. It's time for dessert anyway, so it's a good moment to drop the topic and playfully bicker over what kind of sweets to get. Ylva wins, mainly because she kisses Loki every time he makes a suggestion.

"Can you tell me about Asgard?" Ylva asks after the waiter has brought them her choice of dessert; a delicious looking Tiramisu. She eats most of it, Loki seemingly having had his fill of normal food by now. "By the way, I wouldn't mind if you ordered some of that blood stuff. I mean, if you want."

Loki has tucked her in the crook of his arm and plants a kiss in her hair. "I'm okay, darling. I came prepared." The term of endearment runs a pleasant shiver down Ylva's spine, just like it did when he said it on the phone the first time. He pulls a napkin towards him over the table; with a pen he takes from his pocket he starts drawing something that looks like a giant tree. "Asgard is here," he starts and he continues to draw in the other nine realms while Ylva finishes her Tiramisu.

When they leave the restaurant later that night the rain has not yet relented. With his arm around her shoulders Loki holds her close against him, shielding them from the rain with his umbrella. Ylva has her hands in her pockets, her body humming with contentedness as they maneuver the sidewalk, avoiding the other people who hurry to their own destinations, their heads hidden by umbrella's and the hoods of their jackets.  
"What do you want to do, darling?" His voice is low in her ears and at that moment Ylva would like nothing more than curl up against his chest and listen to the vibrations of his voice. However, taking him home with her is not really an option because Lisa will be there too and Ylva doesn't feel like sharing their night out with anyone.

Luckily, they are in the city that never sleeps and there is a small movie theater across the street. "You want to go catch a movie?"

"Sure," Loki easily agrees. He stops them in front of a 7/11. "I have to get something first, though..." He smiles self-consciously.

The small sticker on the door with a stylized image of fangs catches Ylva's eye. "Oh, sure, go ahead." She waits outside, Loki quickly popping in and out of the shop. Ylva thinks it's endearing he tries to keep his need for blood out of her sight, even though it's not really necessary.

The movie theater turns out to have a black and white themed month and tonight's movie is the 1942 classic  _Casablanca_. They are just in time for tonight's late showing.  
Ylva quickly gets a soda and some popcorn from the snack corner, before joining Loki who is waiting for her with the tickets. "Are you still hungry?" he chuckles when he sees the snack.

Ylva smirks. "I'm not seeing a cinema classic without popcorn!" Loki laughingly shakes his head at her, though he says nothing.

They walk in a nearly empty movie theater, finding themselves a seat up in the back of the room. There's only a handful of people scattered across the room, disappearing in the dark as the lights fade out and the screen comes to life.  
Ylva pushes the armrest between them up so she can snuggle up against Loki, kicking off her boots to pull her feet under her on the seat.  
She feels Loki's silent laughter vibrate in his torso. "What is it?"

"You are always putting your feet up," he whispers, his smile visible in the dark. "You're like a cat, making yourself comfortable in every spot you claim as yours."

"Thomas usually calls me a dirty fucking hippie for doing that," Ylva answers in a hushed voice, making Loki laugh out loud.

He quickly holds his laugh in again, not wanting to disturb the movie. "Do you go around barefoot too, with flowers in your hair?"

"Not in the middle of the winter." Ylva sticks her tongue out to the vampire. "And New York is too dirty to walk around without shoes or sandals."

Loki pulls her close to nuzzle her cheek. "You don't smell like a dirty hippie," he whispers huskily, "far from it." He nips at her jawline, trailing up to her ear with light kisses.

"Watch it, I might purr if you keep this up," Ylva says under her breath, turning in his arms so she can reach him better.  _Casablanca_ be damned, making out in a dark movie theater is way better. Loki seems to think the same thing, pulling her up in his lap.

Although they have kissed more often this evening, the feeling is still new with every touch of their lips. At first, their kisses in the back of the movie theater are needy; greedy even. Curled up in his lap Ylva presses her body against his, Loki's arms locking her against him as their tongues do their exploratory dance. Heat pools in Ylva's stomach, her body reacting to Loki's caresses. However, being in a public place is effectively holding Ylva back from going too far and she notices how Loki pulls back a little too after a short while. Searching for a confirmation for the inkling at the back of her mind she kisses him again, her tongue connecting with his fangs.

His strong hands grab hold of her arms, holding her still. "Watch it," he murmurs. Followed by a mournful "sorry".

Ylva lightly puts her hand to his face, following his sharp cheekbone with her thumb. "Don't be. It's a part of who you are." She pecks his lips and slides off his lap, grabbing her drink from the cup holder. "I think you brought your own drink?"  
She focuses her attention back on the screen, giving Loki some space. She can feel him watch her from the side, followed shortly by his slender fingers closing around her hand. He brings her hand up to his mouth for a kiss and Ylva knows he is thanking her. She smiles at him in the dark, knowing he can see her much better than she can see him.

Loki turns the bottle over a couple of times before he pops the cap off with help of the edge of the cupholder. The bottle is empty within the minute; Ylva has no doubt he was thirsty. That is something they will have to address in the near future: will she let him drink from her or not? It is clear how he reacts instinctively to her, even though he tries to hold back. However, the idea of letting a vampire - even Loki - drink her blood still gives her visions of Dracula and horror movies. The dark prince beside her will have to make due with fake blood for now.  
"Better?" she asks softly when he puts the bottle away.

"Better," he nods, meeting her lips for a kiss. There's a coppery taste of blood to their kiss and Loki seems to check himself. He pulls away and reaches over for Ylva's soda to take a healthy swig. This time his kiss tastes like coca cola.

 


	11. Chapter XI

 

Making out in the back of a dark movie theater; it's like Loki is a teenager again! Not that there were movie theaters like this on Asgard, or pretty, young women who wanted to press themselves flush against him, when he actually  _was_  a teenager. Thor was the one who caught all the attention, with his impressive physique and golden locks. Loki was just the scrawny, bookish younger brother; they were the typical nerd and jock counterparts. Growing up in Thor's shadow had been equal parts of agony and joy, often mixed together in a confusing melting pot of jealousy, envy and brotherly love. The blond vampire cast a large - often cold - shadow, yet he had a warm heart that always had a place for his adopted brother. Loki had since long learned that those contradictions could be united in one person and it was Thor who had secured him a place at Odin's court, alongside with Lady Frigga. The small Jotun child was a prize of battle, a playmate for the young heir to the throne of Asgard. But along the years that playmate became a brother, a second son for the Allmother and a part of the family. And even though Loki felt the need to rebel against his family - the Allfather mostly - ever so often, he also always returned to that family; to Thor at least, he was more than happy to live far away from Asgard and Odin.

He is also happy to have Ylva in his lap; to feel the warmth of her body, the softness of her curves underneath the supple fabric of her clothes. They can't get much closer, not without actually undressing themselves. All they do is kiss and hold on to each other, hands caressing and touching; and although Loki is only one small step away from fantasizing what this wonderful young woman would look like underneath him, he deliberately refrains from taking that step. Her warmth and affection is more than enough right now.

But, of course, his body betrays him. Triggered by her taste and scent his fangs grow out to the point where they start to get in the way. The smell of her blood is getting more prominent with the minute, bloodlust getting harder and harder to push from his thoughts. Loki knows the moment Ylva notices it, how she licks his lips open with the tip of her tongue, tentatively searching for the canines she suspects to be there. No matter how much it pains him, they will have to put their amorous exploits on hold. He promised not to bite her without her consent and if they keep this up, he will not be able to restrain himself.

Ylva slides easily off his lap, nestling herself in her own chair again and grabbing her drink. She's still close, but not too close, clearly giving him the space she believes he needs. Loki stares at her profile; the lights of the movie reflecting in her glistening eyes, her lips still a bit wet from kissing. Although his primal instincts call for him to sink his fangs - and more - in her, Loki only reaches out for her hand, pressing his lips lightly to her fingers. The warmth he feels in his chest has nothing to do with the carnal reaction of his body; love is too big of a word for it, yet he is rapidly growing very fond of the lovely young woman at his side.

"She was so beautiful," Ylva whispers when the screen shows a close up of the lead actress.

"Miss Bergman was a very nice woman, yes," Loki answers. "She was from Sweden, you share some Scandinavian roots with her."

"You've met her?"

Loki nods in the dark. "Hollywood parties were very glamorous in those years, it was fun to hang around."

"I would have loved that," Ylva sighs.

The dark prince chuckles. "It was a snakepit, but still, fun to watch."

"I do the same in the coffee shop," Ylva says in a hushed voice, her eyes directed at the screen. "Watch people, I mean. The first dates are always fun to observe, same as passive-aggressive fights in public. Thomas and I made a game out of guessing the connections between people, or other stuff, like their jobs. I usually win."

"And what did you make of me?"

"At first? Just by observing? The vampire thing of course. A love for books, style and the better things of life in general. And that you usually go solo." She lists it casually. "The rest I just asked," Ylva adds with a light chuckle.

"You didn't think I was scary?" Loki already knows the answer, still, he likes to hear her say it.

"Do I come off as scared?" Ylva turns her head to press a kiss to his jawline, sending a pleasant chill through his spine. " _People_  are scary, you don't have to be a vampire for that."

They whisper-talk, cuddle and kiss through the entire movie, like they're a couple of turtledoves in spring. It's disgustingly sweet and Loki couldn't care less about that. He's just following his gut, giving in to this newly found puppy love.

All too soon he finds himself just inside Ylva's front door again, the stairwell looming in the dark of the hallway.

"I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow," Ylva sighs against his chest.

Loki softly runs his hand over her hair, the soft locks gliding through his fingers. "You will have to go to sleep some time, darling."  
Ylva groans in protest and buries herself deeper between his coattails.  
"I'll see you this saturday, that's only two nights away," he offers, reminding her of their plans. There is a famous DJ playing at Club Red and Loki has invited Ylva to bring Thomas and two other friends to the club, promising them a spot on the guest list.

"Two nights..." Ylva lifts her face to look at him and then starts laughing about something unknown to Loki. It even turns into a giggle fit, the young woman stifling her laughter in her scarf. "I'm sorry," she hiccups after a few moments. "I feel like I'm back in highschool or something. I... you...This..."

"We will continue  _this_ ," Loki kisses her lips gently, "in two nights. Or more like one and a half night. Now get up those stairs before I make you." He gives her a last kiss and then turns her around by her shoulders, pushing her gently up the steps.

She stops a few flights up, turning back to him. Yet Loki only smiles at her and wishes her sweet dreams before he resolutely closes the front door behind him. One more kiss and he would've carried her up those stairs himself, straight to her bedroom. Instead, he decides to walk all the way back to the penthouse, needing to cool down a little.

***

One and a half night and maybe a hundred text messages later, Loki is on his way to see her again. Instead of meeting her at the club, they had opted to see each other before that already. Loki is eager to have her in his arms again, to kiss her until she sees stars. He had thought of swinging by the night before, but by the time the meeting at the Mayfair Hotel was over, it was already close to midnight. The Mayfair is a small hotel and january isn't a busy month, still, a lot needs to be taken care of to rent out the entire hotel on barely two weeks notice. It helps that Thor is a well-known figure in the New York hospitality business and that they have been doing business for years now with the hotel. Putting the guests that have reserved rooms in the hotel up in other hotels is the biggest hassle and requires pulling a lot of strings and cashing in favours. Sif and Loki take on the bulk of the work, as they usually do when other vampire royals are visiting. Just before Loki went out to meet Ylva, he had been on the phone with one of Thor's subjects, a vampire who ran a hotel in Los Angeles. The vampire grudgingly agreed to fly out some of his vampire staff to help out at the Mayfair hotel, in exchange for a large party hosted by Club Red at his hotel in the city of angels. Really, all the work that is needed to accommodate Laufey's visit is just one more reason to hate the archaic vampire king. As if Loki needs more reasons to loathe the monster; his skin crawls whenever he thinks of him. The Russian vampire king is the only one who dares to defy the power and status of Thor's clan, although he makes sure to do it out of the Allfather's sight.

During the meeting last night his phone had buzzed more than once with messages from Ylva. Although it got him annoyed looks from Sif and Thor, Loki had answered every message. Fandral, who was present at the meeting too, was the first to catch on to what was going on. "It's the bookstore girl, isn't it?" he whispered at Loki when Sif and Thor were going over the list of guest that needed to be relocated with the manager of the Mayfair Hotel.

Loki didn't bother answering Fandral, typing his reply to Ylva. She was entertaining herself by searching online for pictures of old Hollywood parties, after having checked by him whether vampires showed up in photographs.

Loki: Another Hollywood myth. Try searching for the Garden of Allah hotel. It was notoriously fun.

He doubted there were pictures of him from that time, not public ones anyway, but who knows what she would find. It wouldn't be the first time he was surprised by what could be found on the internet if you only knew what to look for.

"Ahh, yes... good times in the Garden," Fandral mused with a large grin. "Are you sure you want your girl to see pictures from that time?"

"As I recall you were kicked out more than once," Loki answered dryly. "Why they always let you back in is a mystery to me."

"I know how to get the party going," the blond vampire replied with a smug grin. His expression softened when he looked Loki over. "Found yourself a sweet one, didn't you?"

"She's quite the find, yes," Loki admitted.

"Then hold on to her," Fandral answered simply, sitting back in his chair again and leaving Loki alone with his thoughts. Not that he could think about her for long, there was much that needed to be arranged and that required his full attention.

This time it is Ylva who opens the door for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as soon as he steps inside the hall. Her scent washes over him, immediately triggering a response deep inside him. Loki takes a deep breath through his mouth to steady himself, before pressing a kiss to her cheek as she nuzzles his neck.

"Come on up," Ylva says, taking his hand to lead him behind her up the stairs. Still holding his hand she takes him over the threshold, opening up her home to him. He had told her he needed to be invited in, one of the few Hollywood myths that were true.

In the kitchen are her cousin Lisa and a young man doing the dishes. "You've met Lisa already," Ylva says, introducing him to the two. "And this is her boyfriend, Marc."

The male dries his hands on the kitchen towel and shakes Loki's hand. "Thanks for inviting us tonight, man! Armin van Buuren is an amazing DJ!"

"No problem," Loki answers friendly. "Perks of knowing the owner."

"So, you're a vampire, huh?" Marc continues to dry the dishes, looking curiously at Loki. Lisa elbows his arm, hissing her boyfriend's name. "What? He is, isn't he?"

Loki shrugs. "Can't deny that."

And that was the last remark about him being a vampire that night. Thomas joins them a little later and they entertain themselves by playing games like '30 seconds' and 'Cards against humanity". Loki has never played those games before, though he does fairly well with the guessing game. The weird card game that gets the others to laugh and bicker is not really his cup of tea, but he plays along anyway. It doesn't matter as long as his girl is within touching distance.

Ylva's friends are kind and accepting, no doubt groomed by Ylva before he got here. Loki catches Lisa staring at him a couple of times, but after apparently liking what she sees she eases up on him. They even have some synthetic blood for him in the fridge, something Ylva lets him know discreetly in case he will feel weird about it. Loki doesn't, although the others glance at him a little awkwardly when the first bottle comes out. Yet that moment also goes by smoothly and Lisa even heats up the second bottle for him herself.

While the girls get dressed for that night, Marc following his girlfriend into her bedroom, Loki stays behind with Thomas. The young man sits himself on the armrest, feet on the couch, to face Loki. He turns a half empty beer bottle around in his hands. "Being the most important man in Ylva's life," he starts earnestly, "I have the duty to ask you what your plans are with my best friend."

"My plans?" Loki looks over at Thomas, who can barely hide his joy anymore. "I plan on taking her and her friends out to Club Red tonight."

"Yes, and we thank you for that," Thomas replies merrily. "But after that? Do any of your plans involve vampiric stuff like showing her the inside of your coffin and drinking her blood?" His grin is clear on his face by now.

"After tonight I'm taking her back to my cave to drink her blood and to have wild bat sex in my silk-lined coffin," Loki deadpans. "That is, if she wants me to, of course."

Thomas snorts, almost spitting out his drink. "Dude!" He wipes his mouth. "Okay, I guess I shouldn't have asked."

Ylva comes out of her room in dark skinny jeans that show off her curves perfectly, topped with a sleeveless top in dark green silk-like fabric and paired with heels in black. Taking her back to his bedroom to have wild sex with her doesn't seem like such a bad idea right now, Loki thinks to himself as she lowers herself in his lap and throws her arms around his neck. He pulls her close and rubs his nose along the soft skin of her throat. His fangs run out, but he takes care to keep his mouth closed. Her top has a high neckline, the collar closing snugly around her throat. Loki runs his finger along the fabric, pulling shortly at the button that closes her collar at the back. She wears her hair down again, extra wavy from the loose braid she had it in earlier this evening. "You look very sexy," he whispers in her ear, the tip turning warm and pink from his words.

The moment is ruined by his phone, the buzzing urgent in his pocket. "Excuse me," Loki says after glancing at the caller ID. He walks into the kitchen, away from the others. "What is it, Sif?"

"Am I interrupting something?" the female vampire asks sweetly in response to his clipped answering. She knows where he is tonight and who is with him.

"Yes. What do you want?"

In short sentences Sif explains to him that he is urgently needed at the Mayfair Hotel, to smooth over some unexpected problems. "It is very important that it gets dealt with immediately, Loki," she presses, before showing him a softer side that he doesn't see often from her. "I know you have plans, but I was hoping you could spare some time to fix this. I would do it myself, but I have Armin and his entourage to look after tonight."

"Fine," Loki agrees grudgingly. "I'll take care of it."

"Great. See you at the club!" Sif immediately hangs up, no doubt going back to play hostess to the famous DJ.

"Something wrong?" Ylva is standing in the door opening, looking at him expectantly. "Marc called us an Uber, will be here in 20 minutes."

His arms glide easily around her waist, his hands slipping under her top to stroke the small of her back. "I'm afraid I will have to deal with something first. You'll have to go to the club without me." He kisses her frown away. "I'll be there as soon as possible, darling. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Garden of Allah hotel was real. Check it out!
> 
> Also, I couldn't resist being a bit chauvinistic by adding a Dutch DJ to the story. Even though I'm not into dance music.


	12. Chapter XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Problem walks in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be some assault and violence in this chapter.

 

Ylva spends the day after her date with Loki in satisfying bliss, her mind constantly drifting back to the evening before. Whenever she thinks about it too much, she has the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. The original idea was to take it slow, but kissing him as soon as he came to pick her up for their first planned date isn't exactly the definition of taking it slow. Still, she doesn't regret one bit of it! Last night was all kinds of wonderful rolled into one, from the first minute to the last.

When they find themselves behind the counter together, all customers satisfied for the moment, Lisa asks her how her date went. "I didn't even hear you come home, did you have fun?"

"I did," Ylva answers, smiling big. Of course, that is not enough of an answer for her cousin. It's not for Ylva either, she wants to share how wonderful her night has been!

"You've fallen head over heels for that vamp," Lisa concludes after hearing Ylva gush about her date.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She looks at her cousin with a slight frown.

Lisa shrugs, as if to say she is not sure about it. "I don't know. Maybe?"

Ylva puts her hands on her hips. "I told you all about how nice it was, how sweet he was to me and you're doubting him?"

"He has fangs, Ylva!" Lisa exclaims, lowering her voice immediately when she realises customers can overhear her. "I mean, vampires drink blood, don't they? Aren't you afraid of that?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not."

"Not even weirded out?"

"Well, maybe a bit when I saw his fangs the first time. But Loki is really careful, I have no reason to be afraid of him." Ylva pauses for a second, thinking about her feelings when it comes to the vampire. "I like him... a lot."

"Yeah, everybody can see that," Lisa deadpans. "You're practically glowing when you talk of him."

Ylva smiles shyly, realising her feelings are showing on the outside for everyone to see. "I want him to come over before we go out this saturday, so you can get to know him too. Then you'll see there is nothing to worry about."

Lisa puts an arm around her shoulders. "If you like this guy so much, I'm sure I'll like him too. And it's really cool he put us on the guest list for tomorrow! Tickets for Armin's shows are always sold out way too fast."

That saturday night Armin van Buuren's name and face are plastered all over the walls outside the club. His music is not really Ylva's favourite, but her friends are into it. She mainly comes here to have a good night and to be with Loki. The latter sadly will have to wait, as he had to take care of something first. Loki said it had something to do with the impending visit of another vampire king, the Russian vampire he warned her about. He promised he would be quick about it.

There's a long line of people trying to get in, tickets or no tickets; luckily the entrance for people on the guestlist has a much shorter wait. There's an Asian looking vampire at the door, holding an iPad and checking off a vampire and her human date before it's the turn of Ylva and her friends.

"Loki's girl," the vampire says matter-of-factly when she tells him her name. "Follow me." He hands the iPad over to another vampire, just like him dressed impeccably in a black suit with a white shirt. They even have the same stoic faces.

Ylva shrugs to her friends - not expecting this kind of reception - before they follow the vampire inside the club. He leads them to a separate coat room, where they recieve red bracelets that have the letters VIP printed on them. There are small lockers to put their valuables away.

"You might want to put that pink dinosaur of yours inside," the Asian vampire suggests coolly, making Thomas snicker.  
The vampire hands Ylva two rolls of tokens, red plastic coins with the name of the club in black letters.   
"Enjoy yourselves," he tells them, holding a door open for them that leads to the main hall. "There is a booth reserved for you at the VIP area."

When they walk into the club, Thomas slings an arm around her shoulder. "Doll! How cool is this?! Free drinks, a booth in the VIP section, Armin van Buuren on the decks! This is gonna be one hell of a night!"

The main act of the night hasn't started yet; there is a vampire up on the small stage that overlooks the dancefloor, warming the crowd up. She's picking the vampires out of the crowd faster than before, probably a result of dating one; Ylva is more susceptible to the sometimes minute signs that give away that another person is a vampire. However, the club's flashing lights that reflect in their eyes are a dead give away. Some vampires are also very pale, the lights bringing out their white complexion even more.   
There seem to be as much vampires here as the other night, yet there aren't as many fangbangers. The lion share of the audience is here to dance, all looking forward to the moment the famous DJ comes on stage. Right now, the Dutch DJ is in a large booth in the VIP area talking to Thor and Lady Sif.

Two booths over is a paper sign that says 'reserved' with Ylva's name underneath it in blue ballpoint ink. There's a bottle of champagne on ice, with four glasses, waiting for them. Thomas dives in the booth, spreading his arms over the backrest. "I could get used to this!" he calls out over the music.

They pop the champagne and toast to a good evening. Ylva takes a picture of them holding up the glasses and sends it to Loki.  
 **Ylva** :  _This is way more than just a spot on the guest list. Thank you! You shouldn't have :-)_

 **Loki** :  _As much as I would like to take credit, the champagne isn't mine. Have fun. I'm trying to speed things up here. See you soon. X_

When the main act comes on stage they hit the dancefloor, claiming a space for their little group between all the other party-goers. The club is filled to its maximum capacity, meaning it's a mass of bodies everywhere.   
After a while, Ylva escapes back to the VIP area, where it isn't that crowded. She digs up her phone from her purse to check her messages. There's one from Loki.

 **Loki** :  _I don't know if I should drain them or just rip their heads off. This is taking forever! I'm sorry, darling. X_

 **Ylva** :  _Be careful not to get blood on your clothes. Don't worry, we're having fun here. Join us when you can. X_

After tucking her phone away again, Ylva turns around and almost smashes into a wide chest. There's a white shirt right in front of her face, the buttons straining pleasantly when the man moves his arms to steady her. He lets go again immediately, looking down at her with a smile. "You're Loki's girl," he states in a deep voice, rumbling from his chest.

"Uh..." Ylva is a bit taken aback from the sudden encounter with the vampire king. Because it  _is_  Loki's brother Thor who is standing across from her.

Movement just behind her shoulder has Ylva jerk away a little, startled by the female voice that speaks up close to her ear. "Oh, it is  _her_ , all right. I recognise her smell."

"Excuse me?" Ylva stares at the brunette with the blood red lipstick that now slides over to Thor, draping herself against his muscled side.

"Oh, yes, Loki reeked of you when he came home the other night," the vamp remarks casually, her parted lips showing pearly white teeth. "I can smell him on you too. You smell good enough to eat, by the way."

"That's enough, Sif," Thor softly chides his wife, smiling apologetically at Ylva. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Ylva?"  
The young woman stares at the two vampires for a second, needing a moment to adjust. She is fairly certain the female vampire is just messing with her, her straight white teeth don't look extra sharp and pointy.  
"How was the champagne?" Thor asks pleasantly, continuing their conversation even though she hasn't answered yet.

"Very good, thank you!" Ylva says, finally having found the ability to speak again. Although Thor has an impressive physique, his eyes are kind and so is his smile. The vampire king and his wife don't seem to mean her harm, not that Ylva had expected that; certainly not here, surrounded by hundreds of people. "You shouldn't have gone out of your way for me, but it's very nice."

Thor waves her thanks away. "No problem, it was my pleasure. I was curious to see the woman who has wrapped Loki around her little finger."   
The two vampires give her a knowing smile, making Ylva's ears turn pink. They mean her no harm, but they sure make her feel awkward.  
Lady Sif laughs heartily when she sees Ylva's embarrassment and her husband is close to doing the same thing. Yet suddenly his eyes fly up over Ylva's head and his whole body language changes. He spreads his feet a little and his muscled arms flex, the shoulders rolling under the thin fabric of his shirt. Sif has an equal transformation, making her look like she can pounce on someone any second. Ylva wants to look behind her to see what - or who - caused their sudden change in attitude, when Thor's demanding voice catches her attention. She can't  _not_  listen to his deep voice and his eyes stare deep into hers.  
"There is no meet and greet session with the DJ, Miss," he says, "please go back to your friends on the dancefloor and have a good night."

His words and demeanor confuse Ylva, yet she finds herself nodding like his words really are an answer to a question she just asked. She turns around to go back to the dancefloor like instructed, her feet following orders although her head does not completely agree.

There is a large vampire heading her way; the lights of the club make his skin seem blue. He is bald, with an arrogant face and piercing eyes. He's very tall, even taller than Loki and Thor, and he walks there like he owns the place. There are two other vampires following close behind him, one almost equally large and dominating, the other a lanky young man, barely past the legal drinking age. Instinctively Ylva knows not to meet the vampire's eyes and she weaves into the crowd a few yards away.

When she finds Thomas in the mass of bodies, his arms immediately latching on to her neck, it's like a fog is lifted from her mind.   
"I was just with Thor..." she starts, her voice drifting off.

"I saw!" he titters in her ear. "He is so hot! Can you introduce me?"

Ylva wraps her arms around his waist and sways with him to the pounding beats; they're awfully out of synch, but that doesn't matter. "He's married, Thomas. I don't think he swings your way."

Thomas leans back a little to look her in the face. "Every man loves dick, doll. Some just don't know it yet."

A fit of giggles makes Ylva forget about her weird encounter with Thor. She most certainly doesn't think about the blue-ish vampire anymore, at least not until she literally bumps into him when she exits the ladies room a little later.

"берегись!" * he growls at her in a foreign language. "Watch where you're going, you wench!"

"Sorry, sir!" Ylva immediately excuses herself and she wants to go around him to get away from him as fast as possible. He is the most scary vampire she has ever seen, everything about him screams  _danger_! If Loki would only resemble this man in the slightest Ylva would have left that seat next to him in the bookstore empty, no matter how much her feet hurt.

The vampire looks down at her with pure disdain, when suddenly something shifts in his eyes. Before Ylva knows what's happening he has caught her wrist, holding it in a vise-like grip. Her protests of pain and fear don't register to him as he leans over, his face close to hers. With wide eyes Ylva sees how his skin is marked with fine lines, forming an intricate pattern of scars. His eyes are a dull shade of reddish brown, like old, dried blood.

He sniffs her shamelessly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a devilish smirk. "You smell familiar," he says lowly, his voice gravelly like his vocal chords are made of sandpaper.   
His large hands grab both of her wrists, holding them painfully in one hand. His free hand goes up, lifting her hair as he sniffs her neck again.   
"You smell like food," he smirks, his finger hooking obtrusively behind the high collar of her top.

"Let me go!" Ylva calls out, her voice drowning in the music and noise around them. The large vampire is blocking her in against the wall, hiding her from view. "Let me go!" she cries again, her words turning into a groan as the vice on her wrist clamps further down. The vampire turns her in his grasp and forces her to walk in front of him, taking her to a nearby door with a sign that says 'employees only'. With every sound she makes his grip gets firmer, until all she does is whimper, fearing her bones will be crushed any second.  
The door is locked and Ylva is relieved for a split second, wriggling in the vampire's iron grasp. Yet the man simply steps aside and a second vampire appears from behind him, breaking the lock in one sharp push.

The three of them find themselves in a narrow corridor. Ylva guesses the restrooms of the club are behind the wall to her right and to her left are two doors, one of them ajar. That is where the vampires take her, her captivator pushing her roughly inside so she falls to her knees on the tiled floor.   
They're in a locker room; one wall lined with metal lockers with combination locks on them, a wooden table and two chairs against the opposite wall. In the middle is a long metal bench, bolted to the floor. There are two other doors in the room, with signs that indicate there's a shower and a toilet behind them.

Ylva pushes herself up on the metal bench, her legs shaking and her wrists hurting to no end. The only exit is the door to the hallway and that is blocked by two vampires. The one who broke the lock on the door is leaning against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks her over with mild interest, a small smile playing around his narrow lips. However, it is the large vampire that is closest to her that makes Ylva's blood run cold. There is a carnal look in his eyes, a desire to devour her, no doubt in the most literal sense of the word. Ylva backs away from him, thinking frantically of a way to protect herself. Maybe she can lock herself in the toilet?

Yet before she even comes close to the two doors in the back of the room, the vampire grabs her, pivoting her and pinning her against his chest in one swift movement. The arm across her chest feels like it's made of stone, his grip making it hard for her to breathe. His free hand closes around her throat for a second, before he trails his fingers agonizingly slow down her collarbone, her shoulder, her arm, down to her wrist.   
His mouth is close to her ear, his breath dampening her hair. "Who do you belong to?" he rasps.

"Let me go!" Ylva grinds out, panic constricting her throat. Her head pushes back against his chest, his body hard against hers.

The vampire chuckles, the sound sending cold shivers down her spine. "I can smell a vampire on you. Should I search for the bite marks?" His hand lets go of her wrist and slides over to her hips, his fingers digging roughly in her groin.

"No!" Tears brim in Ylva's eyes. When she came to live in New York City she followed some self defense classes, though those were all in vain when it comes to this sadistic vampire. He is too strong, she can barely move in his grip.

He moves his hand back to her wrist, holding it up in front of his face. His thumb runs over her wrist, resting on the spot just below her thumb where he can feel her pulse. "Your heart is beating so fast," he says under his breath and suddenly he dives down to press his face against her throat, pushing her hair to the side. She can feel his chapped lips against her skin, his breath hot.

"No!" she sobs when she feels his fangs scraping her skin. Her knees give in and the only thing holding her up is his arm around her chest.

The vampire pulls back with a low chuckle. He turns back to his mate by the door. "I think I found myself a maiden," he grins, followed by some comment in a foreign language that makes the other vampire laugh cruelly.  
He turns his attention back to Ylva, still holding up her wrist. His thumbnail scratches over the inside of her wrist, his black nails long and pointy.   
"Tell me, girl," he rasps in her ear. "Am I going to be the first to draw blood?" His nail digs into her skin forcefully, making a rough gash that immediately fills up with the red liquid he is after. It pools around his thumb, soon dripping down her wrist and his hand. Ylva cries out softly from the pain and the sight of blood.

"Look at that..." he breathes in her ear, his voice heavy with lust. The hand across her chest grips her top and turns her around briskly so she is facing him.   
Ylva can barely stand, fear blacking out her mind. She only sees his sickening smile, his long fangs resting on his lower lip. In one quick movement he rips her collar, the button at the back of her neck popping off from the force. His hand grips her jaws, holding her up by her face. Ylva pulls at his arm with her hands, trying to break free from his grip. She hears pained sounds, not recognizing them as her own cries.  
The vampire brings his free hand, red from her blood, up to his mouth. His tongue snakes out from between his lips, slowly cleaning his thumb. "Mmm," he moans softly, savouring the taste. "I'm gonna enjoy you."

There's a loud crash and suddenly there's a lot of commotion. "Laufey! Let her go!" someone roars. The tall vampire lifts Ylva up by her throat and throws her backwards; she crashes into the floor and scrambles back until she hits the wall.

"Loki, how nice to see you," the tall vampire sneers, turning to the intruders. "I knew she smelled familiar."

"You better not have hurt her," the dark prince snarls, his words cut short by an attack from the other hostile vampire. The vampire jumps his back, yet Loki manages to turn away in the last second, pulling his attacker down to the floor. There's another vampire with Loki, a large barrel-chested man, who slams one of the chairs over the vampire's head with a deafening crack.

Ylva flattens herself against the wall, completely overwhelmed by all that is happening. She registers Loki is in the room; he has taken out one of the vampires together with his rotund friend. And now he is slowly approaching her attacker, gripping one of the broken chair legs in his hand. With his other hand he flips the table over to its side, sending it skidding across the floor towards Ylva, to make it cover her like a shield.

She curls up into herself, hiding her head under her arms. She can't see anything, but the sounds are horrifying.

And suddenly, it is all over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Translation: Watch out!


	13. Chapter XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood and gore. It's a vampire story y'all.

 

Loki had sent the text to Ylva in a jest, yet he is now seriously contemplating to separate heads from torsos. Technically speaking, the manager of the Mayfair Hotel who is sitting across from him can't help it that his guests are making it so difficult to relocate them. He also can't help it that Laufey send in an impossible list of demands. But he is the only one that is in the direct line of Loki's anger. The dark prince has already made some serious fingerprint shaped dents in the wood of the antique desk of the manager, making the man on the other side of the desk gulp.  
However, the manager knows how to handle vampires, having years of experience, and Loki lets himself be placated with a bottle of blood - the expensive brand, mixed with real donor blood - on just the right temperature.

Another hour later, they wrap things up for the day. The manager has an extensive to-do-list for him and his team to work on, but he ensures Loki it will all be done before the end of the week. Loki nods, rising from his chair. "We'll see to it that you get it done."

Just when he steps outside, taking a deep breath of cold night air, his phone buzzes in his pocket. On the other end of the line is Hogun. "Laufey is here."

"I beg your pardon?" Loki frowns darkly.

"Laufey is here," Hogun repeats. "At the club."

"What? Now?" Although Loki understands the message well enough, he needs to hear it again.

"Yes, now. With two of his cronies." Hogun's normally stoic voice has a strained lilt to it. "You better get over here."

When Loki gets out of the cab he sees Volstagg doing the same a little down the street; the two vampires make a beeline for the entrance of the club immediately. The young vampire at the door holds it open for them, making the people that are waiting to get in step back. 'They wouldn't be so eager to get in if they knew exactly who's inside,' Loki thinks grimly. The drive from the hotel to the club has taken him nearly twenty minutes and he had been eating himself up inside the entire time. The Russian vampire king is in the same room as Ylva, something he wanted to prevent. Granted, there are hundreds of people there, so chances are slim she is in immediate danger from the sadist, but still. He wants to find her and take her away from there.

Inside they find Hogun waiting for them. He quickly explains how Laufey showed up about half an hour ago, with two of his vampires in tow. "One is really young and apparently a big fan of Armin van Buuren, that's why they came tonight," Hogun says. "He is in the DJ booth now, drooling over Armin's equipment. Fandral is keeping an eye on him."

"And Laufey himself?" Loki couldn't care less for Laufey's new toyboy, it's the vampire king he's worried about.

"Inside." Hogun grimaces. "He brought Igor with him."

Loki quickly makes his way into the club, setting off in the direction of the VIP area but stopping when he sees a familiar mop of blond hair in the crowd on the dancefloor. Pushing through the dancing people he reaches Ylva's friend Thomas and grabs him by the wrist. "Where is Ylva?"   
The young man is enjoying himself too much to catch on to Loki's worry, he just keeps on dancing and tells the vampire Ylva went to the restroom, or the bar, or both. Thomas doesn't seem to think Ylva has been gone for too long, though that doesn't make Loki feel any better.

He turns on his heels, leaving Thomas by himself. When he emerges from the dancefloor Thor's large hand grabs him by the shoulder. "Have you seen Laufey?"

"You lost him?!" Loki sees white for a second, rage taking over. Laufey is not someone you want to lose track of, not in a room full of warm-blooded humans.

"He was supposed to go to the DJ booth, but Fandral says he never arrived." Thor puts his hand over his earpiece, the black cord dangling down his shirt and connecting with a receiver in the backpocket of his jeans. The whole staff of Club Red wears those, allowing them to communicate swiftly. Thor never wears one, but with Laufey in the club it seems like a good idea. And right now, he hears some valuable information. "Someone broke the lock on the door to the back rooms," Thor quickly repeats the message to Loki. "Damn it, that fucker has only been here thirty minutes!"

Loki already sprints over to the back where the office and the locker room are. He pushes people out of his way, cursing the success of Club Red for once; there's humans everywhere, blocking his path. When he finally reaches the door with the 'private' sign, he immediately sees the cracked door frame. Loki pauses for a second: if Laufey is in there, chances are he isn't alone.   
A few yards over, Volstagg emerges from the men's restroom, quickly making his way over to Loki when he sees him. He has been searching for the missing unwanted guests.   
"No sign of Russian vampires in the restrooms," he says with an amused chuckle before his eye falls on the broken down door. "Ah."

Loki pushes the door open, revealing an empty corridor. The first door to his left is the office, but that door is still locked. They cautiously walk to the locker room at the end of the hallway. The only other door is an emergency exit that sounds an alarm when it is opened, though that door is also still closed.   
Suddenly, the sound of laughter can be heard over the beats of the music. Loki feels the door to the locker room, but it is locked from inside. The next moment he hears a soft cry that makes his blood boil. He rams the door, sending it flying into the wall.

Loki roars when he sees Laufey with his hand wrapped around Ylva's throat. The Russian vampire lifts her up and throws her forcefully across the room. The girl hits the floor hard, though she immediately moves to get out of the way.

"Loki, how nice to see you," Laufey sneers, turning back to Loki. "I knew she smelled familiar."

"You better not have hurt her!" Loki snarls, registering at the last moment how Igor makes a jump for him from behind. Laufey's second-in-command is a real soldier, a fighting force to be reckoned with. Still, he can't stand up to two Asgardian vampires, not when one of them sees white with rage because he can smell Ylva's blood from across the room. Loki spins out of the way, pulling Igor down to the floor. Volstagg immobilizes the vampire temporarily by smashing a nearby chair over his head.

Loki snatches a piece of wood from the broken chair and stalks over to Laufey, who takes a loose fighting stance, waiting for him. To protect Ylva he quickly turns the table to its side and pushes it across the floor, enclosing her between the sturdy table and the wall. Laufey lunges at him in that moment, fangs and claws out. It's a short struggle with only one possible outcome. Loki drives the wooden chair leg through Laufey's chest; the king is a little too sure of himself, possibly thinking Loki wouldn't be out for a kill. The ancient vampire claws at him one last time, ripping some buttons of his shirt before he crumbles around the wooden makeshift stake, thick blood streaming from his mouth in a disgusting, projectile-vomit kind of way. Within seconds the dark prince's arms are drenched in gore. Loki pushes the former vampire king back, his lifeless figure slumping over the metal bench.

Behind him, Igor has woken up and he roars with rage and bloodlust, followed by a sickening dry crack. Volstagg pulls his hands back from Igors head, which is now sitting at an odd angle at his torso. The large vampire looks around him and picks up another piece of the broken chair, driving the sharp wood through the vampires chest. Blood gulfs from the Russian's mouth, though with less force than it did with Laufey.   
"Can never be too safe," Volstagg remarks dryly, cleaning his hands at his shirt as he steps away from the dead vampire between his feet.

Thor appears in the door opening, with Hogun short behind him. The American vampire king overlooks the situation and gives his loyal warrior a meaningful nod, sending Hogun back to the club.   
"What was the reason?" he asks the two vampires in front of him in a measured voice.

Volstagg gestures at Loki, who is peeling his blood drenched suit jacket from his arms. But Loki doesn't want to explain. "Not now," he says curtly, making his way over to the back of the room.   
"Darling?" he says quietly, doing his best to keep his voice as calm as possible. "It's over. You're safe."

A small whimper reaches his ears, coming from Ylva's huddled form. She has made herself as small as possible, crouching in the corner. Loki carefully lifts the table away from her, setting it down on it's four legs again.   
"Ylva, darling, are you okay?" he asks, although he knows she's not okay. She is hurt and scared, maybe even afraid of him because he is a vampire, just like that monster that hurt her. Loki sits down on his haunches, a few feet away from the girl. "It's over, my love," he says again, repeating it a couple of times in a soft voice before Ylva slowly lowers her arms so he can see her eyes.

Her face is smeared with tears and blood, her own blood. There is also blood in her hair, matting the strawberry blond locks. Loki carefully keeps his lips closed, hiding his fangs. The fight and the blood have brought them out, no holding back. He sighs. Maybe he shouldn't be the one helping her right now. "Shall I get Thomas for you? Or your cousin?"

Ylva slowly unfolds herself from her crouch, sitting back against the wall. She shakes her head, the movement barely perceptible. Her eyes wander the room, until they fall on the scene behind Loki. "Is... is he dead?"

"Yes," Loki confirms shortly.

Ylva's eyes lock with his. "You killed him." It's not a question.

"Yes," Loki says again, "he hurt you." The last words come out more venomous than he meant to make them sound.

"Yes." Ylva squeezes her eyes shut, probably remembering what happened. Loki stays immobile, waiting for her to look at him again. He doesn't dare touching her, not yet, not if it means scaring her.

When she opens her eyes again, after a long minute, she finds his gaze and takes a deep, shaky breath. Loki is quick to grab her hand when she stretches it out to him, closing in until he sits next to her. When he puts his arm around her shoulders she curls into him and he can pull her to his lap. She smells of blood, fear and sweat, her frame shivering in his embrace. With all the willpower he has in him he pushes his fangs back, holding her close to him and stroking her back gently.   
On the other end of the room Volstagg and Thor have stacked the bodies of the two dead vampires in the corner. They will have to dispose of them later. And the room has to be cleaned thoroughly, there are two large pools of blood on the floor and the bench is smeared crimson. Loki doesn't worry about that now though, he has other concerns. One concern, to be precise, and she is slowly starting to breathe more evenly, her head resting on his shoulder.

She cradles her hurt wrists between their chests, the scent of her blood tickling his nose. It makes his fangs run out again, holding them back is a lost cause at the moment.   
"You need bandaging," Loki says quietly, nudging her head softly with his chin.   
Ylva looks up at him and then back at her wrists. The skin on both of them is stained with blood, the deep gash on her right wrist still slowly trickling with the red liquid.   
"Or I could help with that." The words escape him, he didn't really mean to say them out loud. "I'm sorry," he says quickly. "You can pretend I didn't say that."

"But you did say it," she answers quietly. "And you can." She responds to his questioning gaze by holding her wounded wrist up. "Here," she says. "No biting."   
Loki recognises a hint of humor in her last words, he's amazed she is capable of that at the moment.  
"Go on," she urges cautionally, "my saviour has earned a reward."

"Are you sure?" Loki peers at her face, searching for signs that she might not really mean this; yet she is watching him with steady eyes and her heartbeat has slowed down to its normal rate. He slowly takes her wrist in his hand, turning the wounded side to him; Loki would be lying if he said he didn't want to get a taste. He looks from her to the wound and back. Though she seems very sure of her offer, he feels a little like he is taking advantage of her in a very vulnerable state. He searches her eyes again for signs that she doesn't want this, but he can't find any. At her reassuring nod he slowly moves her wrist to his mouth, kissing the skin first before he gently licks around the bloody gash.   
Ylva leans back against his shoulder, her head in the crook of his neck, watching him clean the wound. He has his arm around her to keep her close, his hand resting on the softness of her stomach. Loki hesitates for a moment before he starts sucking lightly on the wound, drawing some new blood from her. It tastes sweet and earthy, in accordance with her natural scent. It's delicious, even better than he imagined it would be. He takes care to only drink a little bit; she has been through enough already, he doesn't want to make her light in the head from losing too much blood. For now, she seems quite content, cuddling up against him. She even presses a kiss to his neck, surprising him immensely. A warmth fills his chest and he wouldn't be surprised if she can feel it.

Loki cleans the wound as best as he can, licking small stripes on her skin to make as much of the startling crimson disappear. Then he leans back and holds up his arm, sinking one of his fangs in his own skin.   
"What are you doing?" Ylva whispers curiously when she sees him drawing blood from his own wrist.

"Healing saliva," Loki explains. "But it only activates after biting. And since I didn't bite you..." He proceeds to lick her wound again, taking care to cover every bit of it. Now her arm is fairly clean the red marks on her wrist stand out even more; the skin will be black and blue in the morning. Laufey has left his prints on her, something that makes Loki angry all over again. However, he only has to take his eyes off Ylva and watch the room to see he has already taken care of that business sufficiently. The only print Laufey is leaving now is a large bloody stain on the floor of the locker room.

Fandral, Hogun and Sif are in the room now too, talking quietly amongst each other. When Sif sees that Ylva has calmed down enough, she walks over to them with some clothes and a towel over her arm. With some kind words she directs Ylva to the shower to clean herself up, telling her to take all the time she needs.   
As soon as Ylva has disappeared into the shower cell, Thor gets in Loki's face. Loki lets his brother yell at him for a few minutes, while he calmly changes his ruined shirt for a hoodie with the logo of the club on the back. His pants could use a change too, yet that can wait; one of the perks of wearing black all the time. He uses his shirt to clean his shoes, tossing it in the trash when he's done with it.   
"Are you done?" he asks when there's a lull in Thor's angry speech.

For a moment it seems if Thor is gonna deck him, yet he holds back and runs his big hand through his hair instead. "You're lucky there were only three of them tonight, not his whole entourage." The vampire king groans. "How am I gonna explain this, Loki?"

"Any way you want!" Loki replies heatedly. "It's our word against three dead vampires." He slams his hand into a locker, making a dent in the metal. "He hurt her, Thor! I was not gonna let him get away with that!"

"She's not your mate, she's only a human girl. You've just met her!" Thor says in a low voice, filled with anger. "She seems like a nice girl, but I can't justify you killing Laufey  _over a nice girl_."

"Then what do you propose?" Loki clenches his jaws, staring Thor down.

"That we clean this shit up first," Fandral pipes up, rolling in a mop and a bucket of water on a cart. "We've got roughly 45 minutes before Armin ends his set. People outside haven't noticed a thing. Yet. Let's clean this up and figure out how we're gonna handle this later."


	14. Chapter XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

 

How or why she came to the point of offering her bloodied wrist to Loki, Ylva can't really say. All she knows is that she feels comforted by him, despite the blood that dampens his shirt and the white fangs that are visible between his slightly parted lips.

There is blood on her face, it pulls on her skin where it dries; there's probably blood in her hair too and on her clothes. There's a lot more red on the floor of the locker room, where the lifeless body of her attacker slumps over the metal bench. Ylva doesn't want to take a closer look at that, preferring to watch how Loki cleans her injured wrist. To her surprise it doesn't weird her out, not as much as she thought it would anyway. He's gentle, sweet even; it's a very intimate act, despite their ghastly surroundings.

From the corner of her eye she can see movements; bodies are being dragged to the corner, stacked on top of each other. The vampires don't seem to be bothered very much by all the blood and gore, nor the corpses. It's astonishing how little Ylva herself is bothered by this; hell, she is sitting on the lap of the man who is responsible for one of the corpses in here!

Loki's a vampire. He's a killer.

And she feels safe with him.

Ylva nuzzles his neck and presses a kiss to his skin. This close to him she can ignore the smell of blood and dead and instead focus on the scent of a forest in the winter. Because that's what it reminds her of; a large forest in the middle of the winter, with a white layer of frost covering the brown leaves on the ground. It's a smell that suits him, just like it is fitting that he wears all black clothes or that he always wears dress shoes. Ylva suspects he doesn't even own a pair of sneakers, and if he does, it's only for working out; if vampires even need to do that. Loki looks like he is in his mid thirties, despite having an age that consists out of at least three digits instead of two. Maybe a vampire's body keeps the condition it was in when they were turned. Ylva lets her mind wander the way it does - as long as it stays away from what just happened in this room -, following Loki's gentle actions with her eyes. Her free hand plays with his fingers on top of her stomach, her fingertips catching in the dips between his fingers over and over again.

A little later, alone in the tiled shower cell, Ylva peels her dirty clothes off and eagerly steps under the hot water. There's no soap or shampoo, but that doesn't matter right now. It feels good to let the water run over her, to rinse the blood off. Her wrists ache when she rubs her hands through her hair and the water makes the gash on her wrist run with blood again. It'll need bandaging and rest, despite Loki's care.

That horrible pig really did a number on her arms; they're throbbing painfully and the first signs of discolouration are starting to show already. Tomorrow it'll look like she's wearing black and blue cuffs. Ylva even doubts she'll be able to carry the heavy trays at the coffee shop this coming monday. As she is looking over her arms, she sees the vampire's pointy nails on her skin again. Everything about the vampire had been horrendous, to say the least. His looks, his manner of speaking, his behaviour; Ylva has never met anyone with so little respect for other people; all traces of humanity were gone.

A cold chill travels down her spine as she realises she doesn't care that he's dead; she's even somewhat happy about it. He attacked her, who knows what he would have done to her if Loki hadn't been there?! It shouldn't feel this way to see him dead, yet it does; that asshole got it coming, she thinks grimly.

Somewhere in the back of her head she knows the shock of tonight might still have to set in; she's way too calm about it all right now. Shouldn't she be panicking more?

Outside, Ylva can hear raised voices. They're arguing, probably about what happened. Or about her, that's possible too. She can't hear what is being said though, not without pressing her ear against the door and for that she would have to leave the comforting warmth of the shower. Ylva wills her mind to go blank, to concentrate solely on the hot water that streams down her body and takes all the filth away through the drain.

When she comes out of the shower, dressed in the red leggins and black T-shirt dress the female staff-members of the club all wear, Loki and Thor are holding an angry staring contest. They both have their arms crossed in front of them and seem to be having a silent argument.

Close to Ylva is the large, round-chested vampire that came to her aid together with Loki. She sticks her hand out to him, ignoring the pain in her wrist, which he takes with a surprised smile. "Thank you for helping me, Sir" she says. "You came just in time."

"You're welcome, my lady," the vampire rumbles pleasantly. "The name's Volstagg."

Ylva introduces herself too and grimaces when he asks if she's not too badly hurt. "I'll live. I could use some bandaging though. Do you know if there's a first aid kit around here somewhere?"

One of the other vampires, a handsome young man with a short blond beard, suddenly holds out a red box with a white cross on it. "Already on it, my lady," he says galantly. "My name is Fandral. I'm glad to see you're not too badly wounded."

Volstagg takes a bandage from the first aid kit and gestures for Ylva to hold her wrist out to him. She does it without thinking, until Fandral speaks up. "You're surprisingly well at ease around a bunch of vamps."

Ylva frowns surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The vampire sweeps his arm across the room. The blood has been mopped up, but there are still two unmistakingly dead bodies in the corner. He also looks pointedly to her wrist that is being wrapped in a white bandage by his large vampire friend.

The realisation that she is the only human in a room with five living and two dead vampires dawns slowly on Ylva, yet she can't really be bothered by it. "Are you planning on hurting me?"

Fandral laughs heartily. "I just mopped up the result of what happens when someone lays a finger on you. I think I'll pass!"

Ylva smirks. "Then I have nothing to worry about."

Volstagg ties a nice little bow in the ends of the bandage. "There, all done."

He smiles broadly at her, showing off his fangs. He doesn't hide them or excuses himself like Loki would've done, yet Ylva suspects a nicely roasted ham has more to fear from the fat vampire than she has. By now she has learned the presence of the fangs is primarily a physical reaction, like blushing or arousal; the fangs are to be expected after having him patch her up.

Loki appears at her side, his hand warm on her lower back. "Let's go find your friends and get you home." He looks down at her, a slight frown on his face. "What do you want to tell them?"

Her inner Pippi Longstocking speaks up:  _I got attacked by a vampire who wanted to drink my blood. But don't worry, my date killed him! So not only my date is a vampire, he's also a killer. Isn't that fun?!_

Ylva groans inwardly; that is not a story to tell her friends. Still, she will have to tell them something.

***

About two hours later she is in her own bedroom, showered for a second time - this time with her best smelling bath products - and dressed in her pajamas. Loki is still with her, sitting with his back against the headrest of her bed, waiting patiently until she has blow dried her hair. Going to bed with wet hair is a recipe for disaster in the morning, so she dries her hair even though it hurts to lift her arms above her head. Hanging upside down, she sees Loki's shoes sitting next to the bed and there's an empty bottle of synthetic blood on her nightstand; they have fallen into some sort of homely routine pretty easily. When she's ready for bed, Loki opens up the covers of her bed and indicates for her to get in.

Tucked in securely under the covers, Ylva peeks up at Loki. The vampire prince has stayed with her this entire time, though he has kept a slight distance. He takes care of her, making sure she's all right, although he has yet to take her in his arms again. Or kiss her... He does stare at her a lot, his green eyes lighting up in the dim light in her room.

"Will you stop?"

Loki blinks at her from his sitting position against the headboard. "Doing what?"

"You keep looking at me like you expect me to run for the hills any second."

He huffs amusedly. "Well, aren't you? I wouldn't be surprised if you did, screaming and flailing your arms and all."

Ylva nestles herself deeper under the covers. "I'm not going anywhere." She snakes her hand towards his hip, playing with the hem of his hoodie.

Loki looks down at her, one corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. "Still, some sort of panic reaction would be entirely normal, you know? Laufey hurt you, you saw me kill him..." He shifts a little in his spot, his tone of voice unreadable for Ylva. He sounds worried and accusingly at the same time, if that's even possible. "You were hurt by one of my kind..."

"You are  _nothing_  like that asshole Laufey," Ylva says sternly, pushing herself up on her knees so she can look Loki straight in the eyes. "You protected me, that's all that matters to me!"

Loki's demeanor starts to have an air of defiance to it, the change very small but still noticeable. There's a hard glimmer in his eyes. "Who says I didn't want to kill Laufey anyway? What makes you think I did that because of you?"

Ylva leans back, sitting on top of her ankles. She's pretty sure the night would have gone differently if Laufey had preyed upon some random girl instead of her. Maybe the Russian vampire king would still be alive if that was the case. She has the idea Thor isn't all too happy about the vampire's death, making her think Loki acted in the heat of the moment. Which would mean he did it for her,  _because of her_. Then why is he acting so hot and cold about it?

Ylva decides to act on her hunch. "I got you in trouble, didn't I?"

She has to wait a while before he answers her. "No, I did that myself," he says slowly. "But I'm afraid I'm not the only one in trouble."

After hearing Loki's explanation Ylva is not sure 'trouble' is the right word, yet they are in a bit of a predicament. Of course Loki is responsible for the killing, but his clan will be held accountable too and even Ylva could end up with some problems from this. Because of their 'unnatural' state the death of a vampire can easily be kept from authorities, especially in the case of Laufey, who loathed everything that had to do with the government or bureaucracy; the vampire practically lived of the grid. This means they don't have to worry about the authorities, not the human ones anyway. But the vampire king's death still needs to be explained; killing a vampire king ruffles a lot of feathers and you'd better come up with a good reason for the kill.

"Am I not a good enough reason?" Ylva has changed her position on the bed, sitting cross legged with the blanket pulled around her shoulders, forming a little tipi.

"Depends on who you're asking," Loki answers with a shrug.

"I'm asking you." Loki gives her a look that tells her his answer - and makes her stomach flip. "Okay, why would  _anyone else_ think Laufey should get away with hurting me?"

"You're just a human girl." Ylva bristles at Loki's answer, insulted that her life would mean so little to the vampire community. "Don't look like that," Loki says gently, "it's the same the other way around. New York's finest also don't care very much about dead vampires."

The dark prince is right. They didn't even call the police tonight, although they told Thomas, Lisa and Marc that they did. The three were too shocked - and maybe a little too drunk - to ask too many questions when they heard how a doped up guy had tried to assault Ylva. Thor's story that the police took the man to the bureau after taking Ylva's statement and reviewing all the security footage went down smoothly. Ylva felt bad for lying to her friends, though telling the truth was not really an option either; it would jeopardize more than just her budding relationship with Loki.

"Is there any way to make me a good enough reason?" Ylva asks, cradling her injured arms against her stomach under the blanket. "Or do we need to come up with an entirely different explanation for why you staked him?"

"It's almost impossible to come up with another reason. The bastard was only here for half an hour before he got to you." Loki gives Ylva a mischievous look, showing her that handsome lopsided smile she has started to like so much. "What's your opinion on becoming my wife?"


	15. Chapter XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath part II.

 

Thor is right: killing Laufey merely because he wanted to sink his fangs in a human girl is not enough reason. For Loki it is, because of who that human girl is, yet that argument will be swept off the table in mere moments. It is well known that Loki and Laufey loathe each other and even though the Russian vampire doesn't really have friends among the other royal clans, he is old and powerful enough to have scared some of them into loyalty. Now Loki has killed him in a fit of rage - no matter how justified - he will have to pay, not even Thor's status can prevent that. Not that Loki wants to hide behind his brother, though he's not ready to see his life end either. Even if Loki can keep his head, the repercussions for his clan will be dire. And that's just from the leaders of the vampire community, the inevitable revenge by Laufey's clan is a whole other story.

Ylva's friend are easier. After Fandral and Hogun have retrieved them from the dancefloor and brought them into the office, where Ylva had curled up on the couch that was pushed to one of the walls - putting her feet up like the cat she is -, they were easily persuaded by Thor's story. Ylva told them she was attacked when she came out of the restrooms, to be saved by Loki before anything really bad could happen. This was all true, meaning she didn't have to actually lie. Thor did that, using his authority and suave smile to convince them everything was taken care of. Luckily the three were not sober enough to wonder how everything could have been wrapped up in the space of barely an hour; police investigations tended to take more time than that. The story was Loki's idea, yet he left it to Thor to play it out; this way it was less likely that it came back to bite him in the ass.  
Her friends had assumed Ylva was with Loki, when she didn't came back. It made them pour out a hundred excuses to Ylva, for not being there when she needed them.

Loki went home with her; this was not questioned by anyone, least of all by him or Ylva. It seemed like a natural thing to do, even when his mind is occupied with the implications of tonight. Ylva doesn't say anything about his brooding, she just disappears in the shower for a bit, before returning in an old T-shirt and shorts. Her T-shirt shows a washed out picture of a blond warrior, barely dressed and carrying a large sword. He reminds Loki of a gladiator, or maybe even Thor. 'He-man' it reads in large letters underneath the figure. Loki pegs him as an eighties cartoon character.

Ylva pads around the room, totally at ease around him even though her shorts give him a nice view of her toned legs. They've barely known each other for two weeks, but it seems longer; events like tonight tend to have that effect.

Sitting against the headboard of Ylva's bed, Loki watches her as she makes herself ready for bed. She grimaces from pain every now and then, anger burning like a hot coal in Loki's stomach every time he sees it. Luckily that rabid dog didn't do any real damage on her; other than a light sprain, a cut and heavy bruising Ylva is fine. She's even more fine than he would have expected; it's a miracle how laidback about it all she is. She cried a little earlier in the evening and when they informed her friends her voice cracked multiple times and her eyes glistened with tears, but she hasn't broken down. Yet.

When he has tucked her in bed, she finally confronts him with his broody staring. She is right, he  _has_  been staring and he  _is_  brooding. His mind is going around in circles, trying to come up with a solution that will keep Ylva out of trouble as well as himself. Loki is conflicted. If he had kept more distance between him and the girl, this would never have happened; or at least he would have had a better hold on himself when he saw her in Laufey's claws. Now he has put himself and his clan in danger over a human girl. A human girl that is very special to him, a girl that has found a way to his heart in an alarmingly short time. Put in the same situation again, he probably would have killed Laufey all over again. He already didn't need much incentive to kill Laufey, although he certainly could have been smarter about it. Now he needs to be smart about finding a way to clean up this mess. He would prefer to keep Ylva out of it as much as possible, but he keeps returning to the same point: the girl is the only explanation for him killing Laufey tonight. The other two vampires are collateral damage; it is Laufey's sudden death that he will be held accountable for, together with his clan.

He can think of only one way to keep everyone safe. It's rash and audacious, just his style. And he secretly enjoys the thought, his mind already wandering to the various wonderful outcomes of his idea. Of course she could always reject it, though he doesn't want to think about that now. It's unfair to have to rope her in and he wouldn't have done it if he saw any other way; yet now he has thought of it, he is kinda excited about his plan.

He looks her straight in the eyes, not hiding his smile. "What's your opinion on becoming my wife?"

"Geez, that's really romantic," Ylva deadpans, before her eyes slowly grow bigger under his gaze. "Shit! You're not kidding?"

"When you're my wife, you wouldn't be just another human girl," Loki explains, telling her Laufey's death would be more within reason when it was because of a spouse. Marriage is held in high esteem within the vampire community, because you tend to choose wisely when 'till death do us part' covers an infinite amount of time. A marriage would get the other royals off their back and the chance of Laufey's clan calling for retaliation would most likely diminish greatly. "We would have to do it fast, though. There's no time for a long engagement, I'm sorry." He can't help but smirk at her, seeing the fun in his plan. It has been a while since he got to play a role, trick people.

Ylva stares at him, slack jawed. The blanket has fallen off her shoulders and she has unconsciously grabbed the hem of her shirt, stretching it forward and letting it go, repeating the movement over and over again. She starts a sentence a couple of times, though it takes her some time before she can form a real question. "Are you talking about the real thing? Like, a marriage marriage? Or some vampire ritual?"

"There's a ritual, but you'd have to be a vampire for that -"

Ylva interrupts him with a shriek. "You want to turn me?!"

"Sshhh! You'll wake everyone up!" Loki catches one of Ylva's hands with his, holding her in place. "Of course I don't want to turn you." He holds her gaze until he feels her relax under his hand again. "Making you my wife is exciting enough already," he says with a chuckle and Ylva snorts involuntarily, hiding her face in her hands.

When she stays like that, bend over with her face hidden, Loki softly explains her how it would be a formality, a marriage on paper as a means to an end. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's the only solution I can think of."

Ylva sits up again, letting her head hang back with a groan. She unfolds her legs and lets herself fall backwards on the mattress. "Hi mom," she says to the ceiling in a fake cheery voice. "I married a guy I've known for only two weeks! Oh, and he's a vampire, isn't that cool?!"

Loki chuckles and moves to lie down on his stomach next to her, propped up on his elbows. "You think it's cool that I'm a vampire?" he teases, bringing his face close to hers. She rolls her eyes and pushes at his shoulder, though she's biting her lip to keep from smiling.

"Seriously though, it can be our little secret. Only the vampire world would know. And you can get the marriage annulled the moment this has blown over."

Ylva sighs deeply and rolls her head to the side to face him. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and Loki presses a kiss to her palm.  
"A fake marriage proposal at 4 in the morning, just hours after I was attacked by a scary ass vampire king. You really know how to woo a girl, Loki," she says sarcastically. "God, it's a good thing you're cute." She pinches his cheek with those last words, making them both laugh.  
Loki inches over to catch her lips for a kiss. She kisses him back for a moment, before pulling back. "I can sleep on it, right?"

He pecks her lips and nods. "Of course. And just to be clear: saying no is always an option. I'll think of something else to get us out of this." As if he had not just told her he didn't see any other way.

There's really nothing left to talk about. Sure, they could go over all the details, but she doesn't need those to make a decision. What she does need, is sleep. At her request Loki stays with her until she falls asleep, lying next to her on top of the covers. He stays a little longer too, watching her sleeping form and softly stroking her hair on the pillow.

***

Maybe half an hour has gone by when Ylva suddenly starts to trash around a little, frowning like she has a bad dream. Loki smoothes his hand across her cheek, stroking gently until she is fast asleep again. He waits a little longer before he puts his shoes on to go home, to make sure she doesn't fall back into that same dream. He can imagine what it's about and he almost snaps his shoelaces in half just thinking about it.

Loki has almost left the apartment, when he hears Ylva whimper. It's a soft sound, muffled by the walls between them, but his sensitive ears pick up on it anyway. When he rushes back into her room she has pushed the covers away, uttering broken bits and pieces of words. Loki pushes his shoes off and climbs back on the bed, laying down behind the girl and wrapping his arm around her.  
"Sshh, it's okay. I'm here," he whispers a couple of times before she wakes up with a start.  
It takes Ylva a moment to get her bearings and when she does, she immediately starts crying. Loki holds her the best he can. She doesn't need to tell him what her nightmare was about and she certainly doesn't have to ask him to stay with her for as long as possible.

***

When Loki wakes up the next day after sundown, he has a voicemail from Ylva. She left it around noon that day, a short while after waking up. From the drag in her voice Loki can hear she is still in bed. Ylva thanks him for staying with her, for being there for her and tells him how she wishes she could have woken up next to him. She immediately checks herself, saying she understands why that isn't so easy and that she doesn't mean anything by it. She fumbles for words for a bit, concluding the message by saying this is one of the worst voicemails she has ever recorded. Loki smiles, disagreeing with her in silence.

There are some text messages from her too, telling him that Thomas came over, apologizing over and over for not keeping a better eye on her last night. There's a picture with that message, showing two pair of socked feet - one pair pink with red hearts, the other light blue with little clouds and rainbows - up on a coffee table. There's a large pot of tea on the coffee table and a bunch of chocolate; on the tv screen Loki recognises a scene from the movie Grease. It feels good to know her friend has taken care of her today, especially since Loki had to leave her when the sun came up. He wants to check in on her, yet he has some more pressing matters to deal with. He quickly gets dressed and leaves his bedroom to go see if Thor is up yet. It is time to set his plan in motion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I can imagine you're wondering why this is the last chapter of this story. Because, clearly, there is so much more to tell! And that's exactly the reason why I'm ending this story here. I like the story and I have some exciting ideas for it, but it would become something far more than a 'Loki & Ylva AU story'. So my plan is to rewrite the story with original characters. Of course, you can feel free to read that story with Loki and Ylva in your mind, haha! :-) Or I might continue this story somewhere in the future. But for now, this is the end.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think of it! I always love hearing from you people!


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